


All These Little Things

by irislullaby



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Jean with glasses, M/M, Painting, Photography, Sculpture, Skype!au, Tumblr!AU, and all the other shitty tags im forgetting, chubby!marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:58:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irislullaby/pseuds/irislullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco's photography professor forces him to make a tumblr account, and the first thing he posts is a shitty photo of a cactus, who would care about it? But then tumblr user 'Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen' likes the post and starts following him.<br/>One thing leads to another, one day they start chatting via fan mail and the other one they exchange their skypes. Marco is starting to feel good and easy going with this guy living at the other side of the country whose name is Jean Kirschtein, but would it be enough when Jean ask for a video call?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFaceofaMouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFaceofaMouse/gifts).



> Ahem... yeap, this is my very first attempt of a jeanmarco fic, all thanks to an au sumbited to lovely [thisismouseface](http://thisismouseface.tumblr.com/post/76246152483/ssssssssomeone-please-write-long-distance-boyfriends-on)
> 
> Since spanish is my first language, critics and grammar nazis are welcome! So enjoy and hope this doesnt sinks!
> 
> Also, I have [tumblr](http://irisnairel.tumblr.com/)

He made a grin in front of the screen, not so sure about keep going or leave it for good. His sophomore year was going better than he expected, even better than he was hoping to. His photography class by far was the better. He snorted with his lower lip, so the bangs over his forehead danced with the anguished sigh.

It was the photography class which had him in that tricky situation. He bit his nail as the bad habit he had when he wasn’t sure what angle or if the light was right in his objective. He wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to brag about his work, and it wasn’t like he felt that he deserved to be at the art exposition that used to be at the dining hall monthly. It was that he just liked to portray thing for his own collection more than for the entertainment for others.

Moving the fingers over the keyboard without touching anything, he cleared his throat, nervous, as if he was about to sign his own death warrant. He opened the browser, and the cursor blinked over the address box. Drowning a sigh, he typed just six simple letters ‘t u m b l r’ along with the .com.

Going into it, the page appeared with a simple click and a photography with the ocean and a dolphin jumping over the water was the background. He raised an eyebrow. The photo was so simple, it wasn’t centered at all, if he let himself being critical, and it had a side effect that made it look like it was taken out from the Jaws movie by Steven Spielberg. But oh well, who was he to criticize the photography that appeared in the main page of one of the most important blogs on the internet.

He rubbed his face, remembering what his photography teacher had said the week before.

“ _Have you thought about opening a blog to upload your work?_ ” she had said, with that big smile on her lips behind the thick glasses that made her eyes look smaller than they already were.

“ _I’m pretty sure that it will be good for your portfolio, besides the constructive criticism of the site is always welcome._ ”

Of course. _Constructive criticism_. That's how professor Hanji liked to call the haters too, he was sure he wasn’t going to be safe because of… Another sigh. Whatever. He looked the screen again, reading the title with the name of the webpage, and just underneath it, the slogan made him open wide his eyes:

_Follow the blogs you’ve been hearing about. Share the things you love._

With a grimace, he put his fingers over the keyboard.

Share the things he loved? He shrugged unconsciously as he began to type the school email, he was expecting to receive tons of critiques about his work and he wasn’t going to fill his personal mail with awful messages and…

He typed his password, but he stopped, unsure when he hit the username box. He interlaced his index fingers over his mouth while his elbows rested on the desk. He won’t use his real name for this, he had enough with the undirected critics of his work but to read about them on the internet too.

He rubbed his eyes again as he took a deep breath. It was awful enough going through college hearing the whispers about his aspect, so that people get suggestive about his work. Because who doesn’t use their spare time to criticize the chubby guy from their group? His real name was definitely out of question. And if it was like those kind of blogs like Facebook that needed a real profile picture, then…

Nope. He was sure he won’t be uploading his real face, it would be just unanimated objects in photos, and maybe some absent person who could model for the camera naturally. He grinned typing the letters.

**‘f r e c k l e d’**

Simple and with a little bit of a cliché, but it didn’t bother him at all.

Yep. Marco Bodt was going to be a total anonymous in his blog. People will judge him for his work, not for the person doing the work. He did the rest of the steps, he chose some photography blogs to follow, some other from his favorite comedians. He spent most of his weekend nights with Sasha and Connie watching some of their movies, so it wasn’t a bad idea to follow them.

He chose a crappy drawing for his URL images and he finally made it to his dashboard.

Marco rested his back at the chair, pretty proud of himself. He had opened the freaking blog professor Hanji had told him to do. Now… he blinked when he saw the bar over the post he had followed, remembering the last instruction Hanji had given him before she left him alone in the red room.

“ _You need to upload at least one photo per week, I need to see your work on the blog!_ ”

He whined to himself even though he was alone in his room. Connie had classes till night that day, and Sasha was probably in line for her fifth dessert of the day. Maybe he could go and eat with her…

Shaking his head, he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand for the fourth time. It was best to end the torture once and for all. He clicked over the camera icon and it appeared a window with his very own files in his computer. Marco laid his chin in his hand as he searched between his folders for the best photo he had. The one that could impress…

“Agh!” Marco stretched on his chair, hearing it creak under his weight.

It wasn’t worth it to upload his best photo if no one was going to see it. Besides, it wasn’t like the blog was going to be part of his grade, right? That's why he opened the first gallery that crossed his way (something about the garden club) and he chose the less shitty one: a little round cactus with four purple flowers. It wasn’t that kind of professional, but at least it didn’t scream ‘hey, I’m an amateur!’.

He wrote a brief description. He vaguely remembered what the botany teacher had said when he took the photo and with that he clicked the ‘Publish’ button, crossing his arms while he waited.

And Marco stood just like that for five whole minutes.

He pushed the chair from his desk pretty annoyed.

As if someone would look at it! This was just wasting time. He didn’t want people to look at his photos, he took them just because he liked them. For him. Not to let other people, rather than professor Hanji, criticize them…

He rested his forehead in his hands, making a pout. It wasn’t like the only photo he had published was a big deal, but he was sure that if he would need to upload more photos, Hanji would make him upload better ones, maybe he would need a signature for those…

“I’ll go for something to eat.” He told himself, standing from the chair, giving a last look at the screen.

And he froze.

Right there, underneath the description of his only, sad and lonely photography, there was a little legend saying ‘1 note’.

Blinking, Marco sat in his chair again, clicking at the note where a list told him user ‘Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen’ liked his post.

His eyebrows rose over his freckled face, pretty curious, and almost like he didn’t mean to, his big brown eyes flew over the blue side bar in his dashboard, where the option **Followers** had a single one next to it.

No. Nononononono. He just had done one fucking post in his tumblr and he already had a follower?

With a shaking hand, Marco clicked the word, and he had to cover his flushed face after seeing what he saw. Peeking between his fingers, he confirmed it. User ‘Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen’ was following him. Just because of a freaking photo.

He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Just like him, ‘Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen’ didn’t show his true face at the image URL, it was just a weird coat with two crossed wings.

When his breathe relaxed a little (but not his heart), he put his two index fingers together over his mouth, thinking. Now he hadn't just pleased professor Hanji but also a follower, so he needed to upload photos with better quality.

He clicked over his (pseudo)fan username to watch his blog, not so sure about it. His pulse went back to normal once he took a look over the blog, stealing him a little smile. ‘Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen’ was an artist, as it seemed. He would say he was a cartoonist, Marco could watch some random doodles the user had made, with little captions that reflected the lack of importance about critics, good, bad, constructive, but there were statues and paintings as well, those that Marco would love to watch at some important museum.

Shaking his head, Marco put his fingers over the keyboard again. It was just a follower. Someone so bored that he didn’t have anything better to do than to look at his shitty photo, but a follower at last. The least he could do was appreciate the lame attention.

_**freckled asked:  
** _ _Hey! Thanks for following me although I just have one post, you’re my very first follower, so critiques are welcome._

Yup. That should do it. Something simple and neat that didn’t reflect the excitement he felt in his heart for his very own fan. Clicking the _Askbutton_ , he smiled for himself, standing again and he walked out the door to the dining hall.

 

* * *

 

“Not even taking your clothes off?” Marco asked with a giggle when Connie, the bald kid he shared the room with, laid himself over his bed, closing his eyes and snoring lightly.

Marco shook his head, taking off his jacket. He had spent two hours in the dining hall playing ‘Magic’ with Sasha as he was waiting for his friend, who had programming test somewhere over the campus.

But since he hadn’t done any productive stuff during the day, aside making his stupid tumblr account, he was also…

He stopped in his place looking at the blinking power button in the dark (Connie had vampire tendencies when he was sleepy and someone turned on the lights). He wondered if that ‘Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen’ had answered him already.

Shrugging, Marco ignored the thought, starting to pull his loose t-shirt over his shoulders in the dark. But the button kept blinking, making him fall into temptation.

“Ugh!” He rolled his eyes as he walked shirtless over his desk, turning on the screen.

His blue dashboard appeared in front of him, and although he still had only one follower, there was something new in there: the mail icon over the main bar was a little more with and a red square with a number one appeared over it.

Struggling in his place, Marco looked behind him, where Connie was still sleeping, and unconsciously, he put his t-shirt again. It wasn’t like ‘Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen’ would see him shirtless across the screen and in the dark, but it was an awful habit he had when he talked to strangers.

And what if it wasn’t ‘Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen’? Maybe it was Hanji informing him she had found his blog and… But if that was true, then he would have two followers by now. Maybe professor Hanji didn’t had a tumblr, and she was just making sure to tell him she would be checking it weekly, since he remembered allowing anonymous asks.

He would go for the second option, where he expected to find a simple indication saying ‘ _Good job! I’ll be checking you each week._ ’

And that was what he was expecting… Not what he found.

“Why?” Marco muttered against his hands, whined when he saw those familiar crossed wings.

Getting the courage, he breathed deeply, peeking between his fingers.

 

_**Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen answered you:  
** _ _hey dude! no prob, hope youre doing good on your first time here, I read on your profile youre a photography student? that’s cool man! im an artist myself, anything you need, drawing, sculpture, painting, and some photography too, but I just have a shitty sony camera, so ill let you the photos to yourself. Nice to be your first follower, ttyl_

 

And… that was it? Just… He had just said he was cool for being a photography student? And… well, he had offered his services for anything he needed and…

And that was it.

As if his laptop was on fire, Marco slammed the screen against the keyboard, stealing a little whimper from Connie, but he didn’t wake up.

Without the cursing temptation, Marco sat on his bed, taking his t-shirt off again.

He laid on the bed, letting his weight rest over the springs of his mattress, looking straight to the ceiling, making sure there wasn’t a new spider web since the semester had started.

He grinned when his mind remembered the message he had received. The user hadn’t mentioned his weight, he hadn’t insulted him in no aggressive way, and he hadn’t make fun of him. He even flattered him saying that even he was a complete artist, he would let the photos to Marco.

Because of his work.

He closed his eyes, starting to lull into sleep with his thoughts, smooth and in peace. And he remembered a shitty sony camera somewhere in his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes we do stupid things without thinking... cute things too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, just to make it sure I said it before, English is not my first language, so any grammar and spelling mistakes you notice you can send them back to me with no regrets. Also... I've never been in an American colleague, I just take references from other fics and movies that show them... and the blackboard thing they use them in some schools here where I live, its like a little system for the school and... yeah.
> 
> I made a mistake last chapter as I wrote about Hanji as a "she" in this chapter I corrected myself and used the pronoun "they" to refer Hanji's actions!
> 
> This story is based on the Skype!AU someone sent to [thisismouseface](http://thisismouseface.tumblr.com/post/76246152483/ssssssssomeone-please-write-long-distance-boyfriends-on)
> 
> I have a thing called [tumblr](http://irisnairel.tumblr.com/)

February 14th. Better known as Valentine’s Day.

Maybe college wasn’t as colorful and cheerful as it was back in high school. Yeah, there was still someone dressed as Cupid throwing plastic arrows all over the campus and the entire place smelled like roses. He wasn’t pessimistic. He was just glad that it wasn’t as noisy as it was in high school.

He had to admit he WOULDN’T miss the class president interrupting math class to give away candies and flowers of the “secret admirer” campaign they had all years. And at least this year if he received a chocolate from a stranger, no one would do some funky pig noises when he smiled because of that.

Marco was never a lightweighted boy. Since he was a kid, he had had a harsh metabolism and it didn’t matter if he ate healthy food, he would continue growing. His parents tried everything: nutritionist, exercise, miracle pills and even acupuncture to reduce his weight, but nothing worked. So he just accepted himself. At least it was like that for his family and him. The rest of the world… Well, it was kind of different.

The thin stereotyped person that was related to beauty was over him. Maybe it was just the school he went to, or maybe it was just that the world would never accept chubby people as… people. Fortunately, he never had to face it alone.

Connie and Sasha were always in his back when the tough guys from the foot ball team bullied him or giving him a hard time. He had met Connie in elementary school, while Sasha’s friendship had born when she clang on his arm during recess so they could share lunch.

He rolled his eyes, bored, when Hanji projected another photograph of the “The 50 Greatest Photographs of National Geographic” exhibition. A river dolphin painted in red smiled from the screen. He heard Hanji said something about the photographer experience, where he had to get to swim with the dolphins and they seemed cool to him. The whole class laughed when one of his classmates said that the two dolphins in the background knew how to do a great “photobomb”.

“Hey!”

Marco sat straight, stretching himself casually over his chair to reach the back seat, where Sasha did the same to whisper at him, “Have you received anything yet?”

“A lollipop and some chocolate.”

“Hmmm,” Sasha mutter, and Marco could see the girl laying her face in the desk a little bit sad.

He made sure Hanji was still into the explanation of the photo of an airplane crashing against a van by Bob Madden, so he could reach from his bag a bunch of chocolates that he put on Sasha’s desk, watching her jump in her place.

“Oh, thanks, Marco!” Sasha whispered, shaking his shoulders, “I’ll tell you what. Let’s get to the dining hall when this ends. I’ve heard there will be cupcakes filled with strawberry and raspberry jelly, what do you say?”

“Strawberry and raspberry?” Marco repeated with a smile, giving her a low five before Hanji could turn again to the class with one of their big smile.

“Since we’re getting in touch with the National Geographic subject this month, we’ll be learning some techniques from some of their photographers!” The teacher clapped their hands, looking at the class, “So I need you to be ready next week to learn from the master Steve McCurry. You can leave, cupcakes.”

Ironic, huh? Marco shrugged, holding his notebook where he wrote some advices he heard from Hanji, as fast as he could, because his teacher wouldn’t remember by far the words that they had just said.

Getting his bag on his back, he looked at Sasha in the back seat and he smiled at her before they could walk to the end of the line.

“Marco?”

A voice from the front of the classroom called him, looking at Hanji waving at him effusively. With a low sigh, he turned to look at Sasha, who just shrugged and muttered a, “See you at the hall,” leaving with the rest of the students.

Just when all the students got up the stairs to the exit, Marco went down to the desk in the middle of the room.

“Yes?” He asked to get the attention of the teacher who had start typing fast on the keyboard, the face really closed to the screen, “Hanji?”

“Oh, Marco!” Hanji jumped in their place, as if they had forgot they had called him, “I’m glad you stayed, I was just wondering if you and Maggie got well along.”

Marco raised an eyebrow, trying to remember who the heck Maggie was. When Hanji giggle to themselves he sighed. Maggie was an old 3 mm Zorki camera from 1955, Hanji had lendher to him so Marco could experiment with angles and the light without digital settings. His teacher had the weird habit of calling their cameras with real person names and treat them like that.

The freckled boy didn’t understand why they had made him do that, since he had learned to take pictures with his father’s 1963 Russian camera. But he wasn’t going to waste the chance to portrait some of his favorite views with that jewel.

“Oh, yeah, in fact,” he looked in his bag, taking a little plastic tube of the size of his hand, “I could make some shots, you know, from the days before today. Balloons, flowers, people…”

“Oh and it will be my honor to reveal them!” Hanji almost cling themselves over Marco to hug him, and he laughed shyly when the teacher picked his full cheeks, “You always give me good material, Marco. I’ll be excited to show it soon. When we're on the subject, did you do what I asked you to?”

“T-the blog?” Marco put his hand on the back of his neck, ashamed, “Yeah, kind of.”

“Perfect!” Hanji typed again in the keyboard, “Could you give me your username?”

“Hmm,” Marco felt his cheeks burn. He didn’t mind when people called him ‘freckled’ but it was weird when he said it, that’s why Hanji had to bow over him, when they asked him for the third time what his tumblr was Marco just whispered it.

“Good,” Hanji smiled when they found the blog, crossing their arms when the page was uploading, “I know you just have a week, so it will be a miracle if I found-“ The professor stayed still when the first picture appeared, and when they went down and they found more and more, “-more than two… when did you open the blog?”

“Last weekend,” Marco admitted, ashamed by the big smile of his tutor.

“Wow,” Hanji whistled, resting their back on the chair looking at the posts, “Five days and you have upload ten photographs. That gives us two photos per day. And you did a signature too. Very good, Marco. Intelligent and subtle movement.”

Marco bit his lip, slightly proud of his work, but he jumped in his place when Hanji screamed with a hand in their mouth and pointing at the screen with the other. “ _Holy shit!_ Fifty notes on just one photo?!”

“Oh… that…” Marco laughed nervously. It would be kind of complicated to explain why he had that. But in fact, he just needed to say a word―

“Marco,” The boy looked up when he heard his teacher speaking seriously, with a poker face, “How… many followers do you have?”

Marco opened and closed his mouth, trying to give them a coherent answer that didn’t make him feel dumb, “Twenty?” His answer sounded like a question. He didn’t remember, at least it was what the counter said last night when he uploaded the last photo. And it wasn’t like from one day to another there would be 3 more followers… Because it had happened before.

“I knew it!” Hanji laugh at themselves before patting Marco’s wide back, who had to rest his weight on the desk or he would had fall, “That’s awesome, Marco. I’m glad people seem to like your job. You’re a great photographer."

 

* * *

  

It was always nice to hang out with Sasha. As long as he wasn’t with Connie, especially on that day because… They had a weird relationship. And by _weird_ he meant he didn’t know what kind of relationship they had.

Sasha was the kind of girl who didn’t mind if you were tall or short, fat or thin, green or red, she will be all over you, giving you all kind of displays of affection like hugs or innocent kisses in the cheek. While Connie… well, he was Connie. Marco knew about his attraction for Sasha since eighth grade, and although he wasn’t that sure, he somehow knew Sasha felt the same way about the baldy, but he also knew she didn’t want to ruin the friendship.

 _Complicated_. That was the word that described the weird relationship those two had.

They had spend the afternoon in the main square of the campus, where thousands of students hang around to hear romantic music performed by the music students, receiving donations, while the three of them rested on the grass eating the cupcakes Sasha had hide furtively in her bag.

He took out the Canon camera from his bag, reviewing the shots he had made during the day.

Unconsciously, his eyes ended up at the laptop, the same place where it had been all the semester. He took out the usb wire to connect the camera and he moved the mouse to wake up the machine, where a selfie of him and his two friends appeared as the background picture.

He always smiled when he saw it. Sasha had insisted to take it in the first college party, celebrating their independence. Marco was in the middle, being squeezed by both of his friends cheeks, so it gave a look like he wasn’t the only chubby in there, he looked as normal as them.

Marco opened the browser which he had used to for the last five days, and he just needed to type a ‘t’ so the suggestions appeared. It was a routine now. He would always arrive from class and the first thing he did was: upload the best photo he had shot during the day, and this time were two cupcakes, one of them had already been bitten by Sasha, and the raspberry jelly was falling subtly from it.

And as he expected, it was a matter of time before someone reblogged the photo.

He smiled when ‘jsh-ahn-no-jeen’ appeared in his activity list with a: ‘ _Woa! With something like that I’ll fall in love too._ ’

Just an old school lover. Marco rolled his eyes with a grin, opening his askbox to send a fan mail.

 _'Happy V’s Day_.' It was all he wrote after spelling the username and he clicked Send.

He opened another window to access the school blackboard, reading the homework he had for the weekend.

Marco took out a lollipop from somewhere in his bag. He had been chatting with a complete stranger who studied arts somewhere in the world, each time he posted something, which was usually at night. That's why his askbox was filled with messages sent by the guy with the crossed wings. Usually they sent about six or seven messages where they tell each other about their day, and Marco found incredibly funny ‘jsh-ahn-no-jeen’s irritation against one kid in his class. His name was Eren or something like that, but after a couple of messages they ended the conversation and Marco started his homework.

That night didn’t had to be different, and Marco moved himself uneasily in his seat when he checked the page again and a new messaged appeared as an answer.

Unlike the first say he had received a message, Marco had to fight a smile back.

_Dude! Dont remind me, at least tell me your day was better than mine. For what I could see, those cupcakes should have been a blast. I hope our school was so considerate. Happy valentine’s day btw._

_\- jsh-ahn-no-jeen_

He didn’t have to ask. He could bet it had something to do with Eren and something that had make him pout. With a giggle, Marco got the lollipop again in his mouth, typing an answer.

_Being all day smelling like roses should be a better day than yours. Not that I got any flowers. But I got pretty damn pictures with that old camera I told you before. My photo teacher will develop them during the weekend, so I’ll scan and upload them Monday or Tuesday. What did he do this time?_

Send.

_Ha! I smell like roses all the time. Did you use the black-and-white film I told you? I really cant wait to see them. Meh, same shit as always. He was bragging around about what he would do to tell his feelings to that girl Mikasa. But what did you got today?_

_\- jsh-ahn-no-jeen_

Marco looked at the name in the message, If he could remember, Mikasa was a girl from ‘jsh-ahn-no-jeen’ class, who he had described as: hot and totally dateable. He sighed to himself when he wrote the answer.

_Just a couple of chocolates and a lollipop that I’m eating rn. Did she said yes?_

Send.

_Yeah, of course she said yes. That brat always gets what he wants. But hey, do you have skype? Would you mind to add me, cause right now your messages are getting pretty lost in my askbox because of my last post and you know, if you want we can talk on there with no prob._

_\- jsh-ahn-no-jeen_

Marco blinked when he read the text for the third time. Without thinking, he hit the icon of ‘jsh-ahn-no-jeen’ and he could see the last post that invited anyone who wanted a date with him, they just needed to guess his grade of his last sculpture test, adding a photo of the half naked Adonis.

He shrugged. It wasn’t like he was asking for his number to call him later, as for a date. And it wasn’t like it had happen before, ‘cause not.

He log in into Skype once he sent the last message. He checked his blackboard once more, reading the comments in his Philosophy class, and it were just minutes before he saw the name that blow up his heart rate: Jean Kirschtein. German? French?

But he couldn’t keep his eyes off Jean’s picture, where a big amber eye caught him immediately, and only until he saw the small letters on the bottom of the chat, he asked himself why he felt butterflies in his stomach.

_Jean Kirschtein: hey! so marco is better known in tumblr world as ‘freckled’_

_Marco: surprice, why do you use your last name in your nickname?_

_Marco: …that’s your last name, right?_

_Jean Kirschtein: oh, yeah, right, its because some people find it pretty difficult to read, write or even pronounce it right_

Marco blinked twice. Now he understood his tumblr username. That’s how his name should me pronounced, not the lame ‘Jeen’ like the jeans. He giggled at that.

_Marco: oh, I see… did you get many guesses?_

_Jean Kirschtein: meeeh… kind of, you would be surprised by the amount of my followers who are so desperate to have a date today._

Of course. It was Jean… Kirschtein’s fault he had 20… no, 25 followers by now. He had promoted Marco’s posts in his own blog, he had even invited some of his followers to look at his work, and it was Jean’s fault he had 11 photos in his blog. If it wasn’t for him, the sad photo of the cactus should have stayed alone until next Friday.

_Marco: i guess you’re pretty popular_

_Jean Kirschtein: just a little, did you get asked on a date today?_

_Marco: pffff, as if, no dates for me since I was in high school, and… they actually said no_

_Jean Kirschtein: are you kidding me? man! girls love the shitty romantic stuff, im pretty sure you get tons of that shitty stuff because of the photo-talent_

_Marco: guess im just shy_

_Jean Kirschtein: too bad, oh, just look at all the shit I get for the post!_

_Jean Kirschtein: ‘im guessing like a B or an A, but im sure your ass is pretty an A+, so where do we meet tonight?’_

_Marco: that girl… really likes to get right into the point_

_Jean Kirschtein: Im sure it’s a guy_

His heart stopped.

_Marco: oh… you’re into guys too?_

_Jean Kirschtein: yeah, you got a problem with that photo-boy?_

_Marco: what! No, no, no no, not at all, I’m kinda the same… except for the girls part_

_Jean Kirschtein: not bad photo-boy_

Marco sighed. It was the very first time he had said to a stranger he was gay. It wasn’t like he was ashamed to say it. He just kept it a secret because… well. Chubby and gay, double bullying session. But Jean was cool with that, at least with the gay part.

_Jean Kirschtein: So some dude made a home run out of you?_

_Marco: kind of, he was gay too, but he didn’t like me back, so we just leave it like that_

_Jean Kirschtein: that kinda sucks_

_Marco: and you have pretty eyes_

Marco opened his own wide, not believing himself. He had thought about it. He had just thought he had cute and warm amber eyes! He didn’t realized when and how he had written it, even less sent it!

With his hands shaking, he hit a right click on the message and he deleted it. Jean didn’t seem to want to answer. Maybe he thought it was a joke, maybe he thought he was serious and that a weird guy had just flattered him on… on… Valentine’s!

_Jean Kirschtein: sorry dude, I was answering another creepy asks, what did you erase?_

Good. He didn’t saw it. He didn’t saw the damn message of his cute…

_Marco: wrong conversation_

_Jean Kirschtein: oh_

The chat died there. He had messed it up. Absolutely. He needed a good getaway to leave.

_Marco: hey I need to leave, some of my friends want to go out for dinner, you know, to celebrate_

_Jean Kirschtein: oh, sure sure, no prob, I have to deal with the consequences of my mistakes on tumblr, jeez, kids these days are creepy_

_Marco: haha, you don’t say_

_Jean Kirschtein: see you later then_

_Marco: see ya_

He changed his status to invisible, without logging out from skype. He didn’t realized he had been watching Jean’s photo until Connie arrived with intentions of playing with the Xbox.

Marco logged out, and tried to focus in his homework, because he knew that amber eyes would be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaank you so much! For the comments and the cheers and the kudos and everything! This makes me so happy!
> 
> This is the ["photobombed dolphin picture"](http://sipse.com/cont/yuc/Mundo/Mejores%20fotos%20de%20revista%20National%20Geographic/Amazonas.jpg) from NatGeo!
> 
> Lovely lovely [Nate](http://natethecat.tumblr.com/)! Thank you so much for the English review!
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day everybody!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The answer is _no_.  
>  But also _yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Nate for the beta testing! I dont know who would read my shitty English without you sweetheart!!!!

“You’ll chat with your boyfriend again?” Connie asked when he saw Marco sit down over his desk finally, connecting the Canon to download some pictures.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Connie,” Marco sighed when he saw the three thousand photographs on the camera’s memory card, selecting those that he had shot during the weekend in his hometown, “He _isn’t_ my boyfriend. He’s just a friend and that’s it. Could you please drop the subject?”

And it wasn’t like he could give himself time to joke with Connie over the fact that if Jean and him were boyfriends, because Jean had a commitment.

He grinned while watching the green bar that told him that the photos were downloading in his hard drive. He wasn’t commitment like “engaged”, but Jean had someone else.

He had been talking with a stranger who lived in the other side of the country for two months, and by talking he meant it. You guessed, they had broken the boundary between letters and chats to get actual Skype calls. And the first time he heard Jean’s voice…

Holy shit, he still got chills when he remembered, and his stomach flipped when he remembered that he hadn’t spoken to him in six days.

He leaned in his chair as always. He remembered perfectly how his hands were shaking when he read the message in the chat:

_Jean Kirschtein: do you mind if I call you? I need to be working on a sculpture and typing is going to be a pain in the ass with all the clay_

His hands were sweating just by remembering. He didn’t understand why he was so nervous. Maybe it was the fact that he never had been good with spoken words as he was capturing images and writing texts. And he was sure some of his talks were interesting, but the thing is that usually it was just Hanji who heard him, and nobody would ever like to hear him talk about objectives and magic hours to take pictures. That’s why his little chats were resumed to small stutters and shy smiles, because he couldn’t find the words to answer to other people.

And now he would have to talk to Jean? About what? What subject could be so interesting so both of them wouldn’t experience awkward silences?

For his luck, Jean didn’t wait for an answer, and the sound of the Skype call made him jump in his place and he ended up accepting the call by hitting the space bar when he jumped.

“Hello?”

_HOLY. SHIT._

Marco swallowed hard when the sound came up from his speakers. The voice—the one his brain registered later that it was Jean’s—filled his room between all the silence.

There was just one word to describe it.

Hot. Hothothothot. It was slightly deep, but it was deep enough to get Marco some chills. And sexy as fuck. He could almost hear his own fangirling. His face was flushed, because although his voice was deliciously sexy, it had a light childish tone that made Marco’s butterflies move in his stomach.

“Is someone there?”

Please someone shut him up! He didn’t realized he had been biting his lip so hard that he had hurt himself and that he had held his breathe since the very first sound had been heard from his speakers until his head hurt. At first he had blamed the headache to the rising beating of his heart, but it could be as well because of the lack of air that made his heart try to bump more oxygen to his brain in a pathetic try of help him react.

“Marco?”

His answer was a total and completely masculine cry that left his lips when he heard his name in that voice, and with that he took a deep breath before letting out a small, “Hey.”

“Hey. Hi! I thought this wasn’t working.”

His voice was so happy despite Marco’s fluffy voice. The least he could do was breathing deeply and try to calm himself. He was just his friend after all.

“Yeah, it happens often. Not that I talk a lot with people on the computer… I mean, not always, of course—there is always someone to talk to.” Marco bit his tongue when he realized he wasn’t saying anything, but he blinked confused when he heard a giggle on the other side.

“Do you talk to your parents on Skype?” Jean asked absentmindedly.

“Well… yeah,” Marco shrugged, realizing it was no use since Jean couldn’t really see him.

“Then at least you talk with your high school friends, it has no use to talk to people on Skype.” Marco could swear he saw Jean shrugging, although he didn’t know how he looked like.

“Yup…” certainly not. And he wasn’t going to start having a pity party remembering he didn’t have so much friends back in high school. So he reminded silent.

He started panicking because of that. He knew they didn’t have so much in common. And maybe they had, because not all the nights you spend some hours chatting with someone about anything, but it wasn’t the same to write them than talking about them. So he asked the first thing that came to his mind, “So… you’re making a sculpture?”

Silly question. He knew he was doing that, they would have continue chatting if it wasn’t because of that…

“Actually yes,” Jean said, he didn’t seemed mad because of the question, au contraire, “It’s a testing task. We will be sculpting a live model in a couple of weeks and the teacher asked us to practice with 2D models before getting the real thing. I had been dealing trying to find pictures of a sculpture over different angles.”

The more Marco heard Jean talking, the more he felt fascinated. A little smile escaped from his lips while a light warm filled his chest.

“I think I have some photos here from a museum I went at the beginning of the semester.” Marco said a little bit calmed, “Hanji asked us to play with lights and I think I get myself lost with one of the sculptures.”

“You have to be kidding me,” exasperation was present in Jean’s voice, and Marco couldn’t stop smiling and feeling a little bit guilty while he looked for the photos and send them to him, “You would have save me a lot of time, you know?”

“You never asked before,” Marco said.

“Touché,” for a moment, Jean was silent, maybe because he was looking at the pictures or because the conversation had died again. But even before Marco could try to save it, Jean released a long sigh, “This would have been better than the sculpture I found. Guess what I choose.”

“Michelangelo?” Marco raised an eyebrow.

It wasn’t like Marco knew a lot about sculptures, but he knew Michelangelo was an artist by degree, and if he remembered well, he had done the same stuff Jean did… Jean was like his Michelangelo…

“Statue of Liberty.” Was all Jean said.

And Marco could help but to laugh out loud. It was one of the most sincere laughs he had had in a while. And he had to stop his belly from keeping bouncing, putting a hand over it and the other over his mouth to stop the noise.

Jean hadn’t said a word after that, and he didn’t know if he was mad at him for laughing, but he didn’t care too much, because despite that, his voice was still shaking.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said whipping a tear.

“I know, I’m pathetic.” Jean sighed, with fun in his voice.

“From all the sculptures that are all over the world, you choose the most American one?”

“Hey! I needed pictures from all angles, and unless there actually are photos of the David’s ass over the internet, the Statue of Liberty is the one who has the most.”

“I think there is a pervert out there who actually has it,” Marco guessed without breaking his smile, “So the sculpture isn’t real size then?”

“Pfff, real size?” Jean laughed, “And how am I supposed to take it to class? Meh, the simple tasks are made of clay in a short scale. I’m about to finish it, wanna see it? I should have that shitty camera somewhere here, or you wanna watch it by webcam?”

Watching Jean by webcam. Although it was tempting, hearing his voice for the first time and watching him face to face would be too much for his heart, not to mention that… he didn’t want Jean to look at him like… that.

“Go and get that shitty camera.” He encouraged him with a giggle while he heard Jean cursed when his jeans were stained with clay as he looked for the Sony in his room.

After that they had talked by Skype a couple of times, normally when Jean has his hands doing painting or drawings. It wasn’t until three weeks later from today, that when he had felt as confident as ever with Jean, that his world collapsed.

“Guess what,” when Jean said it, it always meant good news, so Marco hummed before eating a bubble gum, “We got the real model we will be doing for sculpture class and, oh my god, that guy is hot. I think I’m gonna ask him out on a date.”

Marco choked on the gum, coughing while hitting his chest to try to swallow it. It didn’t stop until he reached for the bottle of water in his night stand that he always kept full.

“Are you ok?” Jean asked when it went quiet.

“Yeah. I-I’m sorry,” Marco said, removing the rest of the water in his lips with his hand, feeling a knot in his stomach, “Guy?” his voice was too squeaky, so he cleared his throat before trying again, “I mean, I thought it will be a girl…”

“Well yeah, there’s also male models, why does that surprise you?”

“N-no, it’s not that” Marco scratched the back of his head, “What’s his name?”

Armin. The guy Jean liked was Armin. Marco didn’t know him, not even by photo, and it wasn’t as if Marco was going to ask for one. Jean had taken a picture from his half-finished sculpture, it had a little and fine body, the arms and torso were thin and defined, and by what he could see, at least he had covered his noble parts with a blanket.

After a couple of dates, finally last week, Jean had formalized his relationship with Armin and Marco had to fake laryngitis in order to avoid talking to Jean. Also, he invented a bunch of lame homework and exams to stay away from Skype, returning to the poor fanmails.

So the last weekend, Marco could disconnect himself from the cyber world and go back home, where he could think about it clearly.

It wasn’t possible falling in love with someone by just hearing his voice and exchange some words every night. It wasn’t healthy. Also, what was the point of that? They both lived in different parts of the country, so a direct contact wasn’t going to happen unless one of them decided to move to the other. And that wasn’t possible, because Jean had just started college and he was just in his sophomore year. So…

That was the answer.

It wasn’t possible falling in love like that and it wasn’t healthy. He needed to throw that idea away. He needed to stop thinking about Jean in that way, because the only one who would end up hurt would be himself.

So a nice and relaxing weekend was all he needed to get in touch with his inner self. That and a nice tulips field, and a sunset and his Canon. That was him, and it was all he needed to feel in peace.

He sighed when he uploaded a photo on Tumblr with the tulips field and the sunset behind the mountains. He didn’t have messages, and his followers kept growing.

Maybe Jean was busy at the moment…

Or maybe not.

As soon as the photo was up, a message let him know he had an ask in his inbox. Sighing, Marco dragged the mouse lazily over the icon, clicking it.

_Hey! How have you been? still feeling sick? man its been like what? 2 weeks! You need to take care of yourself, also, there’s a week since you upload anything, Hanji is gonna be mad at you. I mean… you get me, is there something wrong? Never mind, Im babbling and I just… man Im just worried, I know you were to your hometown but, hope you get well soon so we can talk. See ya._

-     _jsh-ahn-no-jeen_

“For being just friends, he does seem worried more than just a friend,” Marco jumped when he heard Connie’s voice near his ear, and he turned to him to see him over the screen, with his face serious, “I didn’t know you were sick.”

“Shhh!” Marco waved his hands to move him away the screen, turning in his chair frowning and with the face flushed, “My throat hurt a little. I didn’t wanted to get worse.”

“Suuuuuuure,” Connie said, letting out a giggle, “So? Are you gonna go and talk to him or are you gonna keep him worried?”

“Nobody’s worried,” Marco sat again in front of the laptop and breathed deeply.

Connie was kind of right, Jean was worrying more than necessary. It had been a week since they had talked… kind of, between the few messages in Skype and some others in Tumblr, they hadn’t been uncommunicated, and to be honest, he missed talking with his friend too. Besides, he was now clear that Jean was a friend and nothing more.

_Marco: its just been a week, dont exaggerate._

_Jean Kirschtein: THE DEAD IS ALIVE!!!!_

Marco giggled, smiling at the fast answer of his friend.

_Marco: hey_

_Jean Kirschtein: hey_

_Jean Kirschtein: how was home?_

_Marco: sweet, I got some pictures from the tulips field and some from the store my mom has_

_Jean Kirschtein: I saw the tulips field, its awesome man, what does your mom sells?_

_Marco: flowers, she’s a florist_

_Jean Kirschtein: wait… so the tulip field?_

_Marco: it’s my mom’s, we only grow tulips, the other ones we buy them and then well… sell them_

_Jean Kirschtein: YOU OWN A HUGE TULIP FIELD!_

_Marco: you ALWAYS exaggerate!_

He could watch how Jean was writing something, then erase it and try again. It happened other three times before he dropped it.

Marco sighed before typing.

_Marco: wanna Skype?_

_Jean Kirschtein: only if you feel like it_

This time it was Marco who called. This time Jean didn’t need his hands free to talk to him. And this time, Marco just wanted to hear him to convince himself that everything was in order. Jean didn’t took long to answer, but he wasn’t the first to talk.

“Not even a hello after a long week?” Marco asked with sarcasm and a smile on his lips.

“… Call me crazy but—I have the weird feeling that I did something I shouldn’t and you’re mad at me and you have been avoiding me since then.”

Marco’s heart skipped a bit. He couldn’t have been that obvious, he hadn’t give hints, right? Just pity lies because yeah, he wanted to avoid talking to Jean and Armin’s name sliding between their conversations but… he didn’t think Jean would notice.

“Exaggerating things as always, why would I be mad at you?” he asked innocently.

“I don’t know,” he heard a deep sigh, “I guess I have a lively imagination. Hanji isn’t gonna be mad at you with the lack of photos for a week?”

“Hanji could be worried of their other students, like Sasha, for example,” Marco scratched his nose smiling, “He texted me asking me to take some pictures from landscapes from my hometown, since she had been _so_ busy this weekend she couldn’t took the damn photos. As if Hanji was so stupid to not recognize the same photos.”

“Sasha is the redheaded girl you use as model sometimes?” Jean asked, “She’s cute.”

“You should see her eat,” Marco scoffed softly, “She can break the spell.”

“You’re kidding me!” Jean laughed with him.

That’s what he needed. He needed to laugh with his friend Jean. That fan who had got him half of his other fans. That guy on the other side of the country who could be his friend without judging him, someone who he could talk to about silly things as much as he wanted and laugh without worrying how late it was. Someone…

“Oh, wait a sec, someone’s calling at the door.”

Marco heard Jean’s chair moving in his room to the door, talking in whispers since his mouth wasn’t next to the microphone, and he heard more than two footsteps when he came back to the computer.

“Marco?” he called him, and a smile was printed in his voice.

“Yeah?” Marco couldn’t help but smile as well.

“I want you to meet Armin.”

Oh. Shit.

“Hey, Marco?” a voice not as deep as Jean’s called him over the microphone; he was so nice that all the blood drained from the freckled face when he heard it, “Nice to finally meet you. Well… kind of. Jeen had talked a lot about you.”

Jeen. Jeen. _Jeen_.

IT WAS **JEAN** GODDAMIT! The kid was dating him and he couldn’t even get his name right?! Really?!

He had to fight the urge to smash the desk and remembering that they were waiting for an answer on the other side. He took a deep breath before opening his mouth.

“Hey, Armin, nice to meet you too,” he forced a silly smile that was sure no one would see, “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Well… I hope it wasn’t just about my half time job,” Armin giggled, and Marco related that comment to his model job. Of course, Jean would only date models…

“Oh, no, no, no, not at all.” Marco release his breath little by little, each time letting his anger go and welcoming the sadness, “I mean, Jean told me how you two met, but I really admire your courage. I… I wouldn’t be brave enough to even step up in front of the class.”

“Thanks, uh…” Armin seemed awkward trying to continue the conversation, and it wasn’t sight of Jean anywhere, making him wondered if he had abandoned the ship.

It didn’t matter; he was going to end the model’s suffering.

“Jean?” he asked with dry voice.

“Yeah?” the boy cleared his throat when he heard his name, making Marco wonder what he was doing—he didn’t want to know, so he shook his head and got the mouse in the ending call button.

“I’m going to bed now, it was a long trip and I just got here,” the lies were now easier to say, although it wasn’t entirely a lie, “Besides, I think you had a date with Armin or something like that.”

“Uh, yes, we’re having dinner… wanna come?” Jean teased, trying to break the awkward moment. _Wow_ , Marco thought, _even he felt it, but why?_

Even though, he forced his voice to sound a little happier. “Sure. Just give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be there.” He smiled sincerely when he heard Jean laughing a little bit relaxed, “Enjoy dinner, you guys.”

“Thanks, Marco.”

He only heard Armin’s voice before hanging up, and it wasn’t long before Jean appeared offline in his contact list. But he remained online, although he said he was tired.

The truth? He wanted to crash his head against the desk and throw his laptop against the wall, he didn’t care his camera was still plugged to it.

Because the truth was that, yes, it was possible to fall in love with someone despite never looked at his face before, only by words and stupid phrases. Because that how people fall in love, right? With small details, with laughs and conversations. You just need to start caring about the other person to know he had got into your life somehow. With his voice and his laughs, and his childish humor but wise at the same time. With his bad jokes and his crazy mania to over exaggerate things. But he had to admit that one important part of the process of falling for someone was physical contact. Not like a banal expression of love, but kisses and hugs are important parts of a relationship. And to be honest, Armin had the lead in that, and he couldn’t do anything to change that.

He wanted to hit something and let his frustration go on something. Because there he was, sitting in his desk pathetically, while the person he was in love with had just go out from his room with his _boyfriend_ , probably to a restaurant near their campus to talk, laugh, _touch_.

The only reaction his body had was dropping a single tear in his freckled cheek, and he didn’t even let it go to his jaw, catching it with one finger, and Marco watch the drop wet his fingers.

“Hey,” a different voice from the one he had been hearing from his laptop brought him back to reality, tearing away the rest of his tears with his hand, turning to see Connie lying in his stomach over his bed with his laptop in front of him.

Shit. He had forgotten to put his headphones on, and now he couldn’t lie about anything because Connie had heard _everything_. But watching him smile softly was something new.

“Want to play Minecraft?”

Releasing a snort, Marco half smiled.

“You’re on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hHHHHHHH this is what you people get when you update two different fics in one day. ONE FREAKING DAY!  
> But I owned this fic a chapter so here I am! also... gosh, never make me write when I just translate one sad chapter from LAD. Its not a good idea, I will make Jean or Marco suffer eventually...  
> But oh well, here it is, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos and all the love! you are all so sweet! *squeeshy hug*  
> I hope I can update this fic each two weeks, cause you know, school and blah blah blah and work, I want to graduate on May so the final work is giving me some trouble :S  
> Buuuuuuuuuut I wont let this down I promise!  
> See you guys later~<3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Marco has to deal with a really drunk Jean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knooooooooooooooow that I haven't update this like in 3 or 4 months!!!! Please blame on meeeee, Okai, well... maybe not, the one to blame is my thesis, and guess what?! I did iiiiiit!! Woohoooo I finished the freaking investigation and I'm just two or three months away to graduate and get my degree.
> 
> So, here it is, chapter 4. I hope to keep updating this more often, I can't promise a thing because I still have to translate LaD, then the One and Ownly Project and finally I'm gonna start translating Wisteria.
> 
> Wish me luck and enjoy the chapter!

Remember that time when Marco said that Connie and Sasha’s relationship was complicated?

Well. He didn’t have the slightest idea of what he was talking about that time.

It wasn’t complicated when Connie and Sasha were sitting next to each other, looking at the other sideways and laughing each time they catch themselves looking. It wasn’t complicated when Connie stayed up ‘till 3 in the morning with his phone under the covers sending stupid jokes to Sasha, or when he used tons of perfume before the class he had with her. It wasn’t complicated feeling the electricity those two sparkled when they were together. They were a fucking lightning storm.

There weren’t either those 2,792 miles that kept Washington apart from California. There weren’t complicated the 3 hours difference to find a moment to talk. It wasn’t complicated leaving the laptop on ‘till 2 in the morning when he was online after a date to spend some time talking. It wasn’t complicated to feel how his heart jumped out of his chest each time he heard his voice, and knowing that that voice could whisper something to somebody else. And he didn’t find complicated to change the subject each time Jean asked for his phone, because who would want to have not only the internet but also his phone cursed?

It was enough just to agonize in his room, for to have to agonize everywhere he went as well.

Nope. No, no, no. That wasn’t complicated.

It was _pathetic._

It was pathetic how Connie and Sasha wasted their time playing stupid games instead of being sincere with each other and stop with that madness. It was pathetic how Marco cling himself to a stupid photo where Jean was in front of the Hollywood sign, sitting on a rock with brown shorts and a military shirt, his sandy hair was messed up from the wind with aviator sunglasses. He wasn’t looking at the camera, looking at the horizon, with his arms over his knees, so Marco could see his profile.

That was the only photo Marco let himself have on his phone, or everywhere else. Because Jean didn’t look at him directly, it was just a partial look of how Jean really looked like and oh god, it had to be illegal to be that fucking sexy as he was on that photo. Just by looking at it, his stomach flipped and butterflies flew in his chest. He just let himself look at it when he had a panic attack, when he needed to do some work, when he was about to do an exam or just when he felt his heart broke in two.

Because Jean was so far away. Because Jean had someone else. Because he was sure that Jean will never look at him as he looks at Jean, because his boyfriend was a nudist model and he couldn’t even stand five minutes topless.

He breathed deep, opening his eyes; he was lying in his bed without a shirt. He had to do it. He had to stay five minutes without a shirt. Maybe he would win some confidence with himself. He gulped when he closed his eyes again, feeling the cold air touched his skin. He knew he will get another panic attack soon, and he couldn’t get to look Jean’s photo until he got his shirt back on. Because even if it wasn’t Jean who was looking at him, and it was just a damn photo, he didn’t want Jean to look at him like that.

His hand shook when he put it up and placed it over his heart, under his skin he could feel it bump frenetically. He tried to calm himself again. After all, he was alone in his room. There was nobody who could watch and judge him. Just him. Connie wouldn’t be back in two hours until his math class was over.

Biting his lip, Marco pulled his hand down; feeling his chest hair under his finger tips, imagining it was Jean who touched him…

A panicked sigh.

Alright, no. Let’s keep Jean for future references… Let’s just imagine someone else was touching him. Someone else was accepting him just the way he was…

He kept going over his tummy, where he stopped when he felt the excess of skin of his stomach scattered on the mattress. On one side, he could feel the scars on his skin that were a reminder of how big he had become. Maybe he should do some exercise…

He pouted at the idea. He knew that even if he killed himself in the gym, there would be no change.

He breathed again, opening his eyes slowly, looking at the ceiling. He needed to realize the truth. He couldn’t blame the distance. He couldn’t blame Jean for being a total dork and making him fall in love because of his silliness. He couldn’t blame Jean for not loving him, because he hadn’t even send him a photo of himself as Jean had done before, so Jean could only left his appearance to his own imagination. Besides, he was sure that if by mistake Jean started feeling something for him, the spell would broke once Jean saw Marco standing in front of him.

Maybe that was the main reason why Jean wouldn’t feel something for him. He didn’t even accept himself as he was. He didn’t want to be a person with a toned body, but at least he wanted to feel himself good with his body without feeling intimidated by a couple getting on the bus and shared seats without feeling uncomfortable.

He gasped when he hide his eyes behind his forearm. He wouldn’t get himself someone if he kept pitting himself.

But the sound of a key opening the lock to his room made him jump to his feet, covering his naked chest with the shirt he had in his hand.

“Connie!”

“What?!” his friend closed the door again, staying out of the room.

“Just… wait a second,” Marco hurried to put his shirt on, “You can come in.”

“Did you clean everything?” Connie peaked behind the door with a smile, making Marco raise an eyebrow, “Hey, I thought you would be talking to Jean.”

Marco rolled his eyes before letting Connie in, closing the door, to which Marco hit Connie’s head slightly.

“Hey! What was that for?” Connie cried.

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Marco sighed defeated, self-conscious over how red he was.

“Are you ok?” Connie asked leaving his bag near his bed.

He knew Marco had this strange feeling that everybody in his surrounding would judge him. He didn’t blame him. Since elementary school he had to help Marco defend himself from the bullies when they messed with him. Maybe it was the fear he had kept fighting all these years that made him feel insecure with himself. He called it ‘defensive maneuver’. But since Marco had started chatting with this guy Jean KirstIdontknowhowtospellhisname, his mood had have some ups and downs. He knew Marco had some feelings for the guys of the sculptures, but he was worried for the mental health of his friend.

“Yeah…” Marco sighed.

In that moment, the familiar sound of a skype user logging in was heard from the speakers. Connie just needed to peak a little to read the name on the screen.

“Hey…”

“I’ll go and get dinner,” that was Marco’s answer, taking his jacket and headed out.

Connie looked at him, pointing at the laptop.

“But he just-“

“I’m invisible,” Marco opened the door, watching at the laptop with a bored expression, “I don’t feel like talking to him today.”

And he closed the door, leaving Connie alone in the room. After rolling his eyes, he went to his bed and took out his phone, ready to start his nightly messages with Sasha. But another sound coming from the Marco’s laptop got his attention.

 

* * *

 

Marco breathed, shaking his body, trying to gain a little heat when the cold air hit his face. He regretted leaving the comfort of his room, the heat of his bed. But being there, knowing that Jean was online wouldn’t be as pleasurable as the cold he was feeling in the tip of his nose and ears.

A coffee. A coffee will be a great idea to get some heat and keep thinking… Whatever. He just wanted to keep himself away of everything and keep pitting himself with a cup of mochaccino in his hands. Maybe caffeine will take his mind busy in other stuff. Like the project Hanji wanted him to work on, an important exhibition that would take place in just three months. (Hey, making good photos was science, and even if he still had three months to make them, he was still filling himself worried to expose them.)

He crossed the campus until he arrived to the commercial zone of the university, where there were some clothes shops and some fast food restaurants located in the middle of the campus.

He entered slowly in a small coffee shop, just in front of the McDonald’s, ignoring the bunch of people gathered outside the Starbucks two shops nearby. Maybe he hadn’t got bullied at college, but he still struggled to feel himself comfortable with a lot of people near him.

This place was filled with small tables with four chairs each one. There were also some couches near the windows that looked comfy, and there was also a bar on the big window in front of the shop.

Marco ordered his coffee, finally letting himself rest in the single couch in the middle of the shop with a tired sigh. He needed to stop worrying about things that he wasn’t sure would even happen. So he had to focus on his priorities. First, he needed a good topic for the gallery that was going to be exhibit in a little local near the capital. The gallery didn’t just mean he needed to take pictures, but also organize the event. So he needed to organize his time if he didn’t want to leave all the work in hands of his crazy professor Hanji.

After that it was school. Spring break was next in the corner, so he needed to do some works before vacations. Homework, projects, duties… There was no time for guys on the other side of the country that _shouldn’t_ be thinking the way he was thinking about them.

He had just taken two sips of his coffee when something vibrated in his pocket. Lazily, he took out his phone, leaving it on the table with his eyebrows up in his forehead when he saw Connie’s name.

**From: Connie  
dude u need to come back**

**To: Connie  
Why?**

He hadn’t even finishing typing his answer when he sipped his coffee again.

No. He didn’t want to go back to his room. At least not yet. He still had that feeling of Jean’s imaginary hands over his body and his mind needed a break.

It was just a minute before another text message.

**From: Connie  
…dont get mad k? Jean started talking to u even if u were invisible n he told me to get ur ass online n well..**

He didn’t know if it was his tongue burning from the coffee of the fact that Connie had used his stuff without permission. He felt the curious eyes of the other costumers over him when he stood up because of the hot liquid dropping from his chin, taking the phone with one hand before typing angrily.

**To: Connie  
CONNIE!!!**

**From: Connie  
SORRY OK??**

**From: Connie  
BUT U NEEEEEEEEEEEEEED TO COME BACK**

He dropped himself back on the couch, rubbing his eyes with his index finger and thumb. It wasn’t his problem. Connie wanted to talk for him? Then he needed to stick to his consequences. He had enough stress from the school, work and his self esteem to add the shame of dealing with Jean with what Connie had said for him. Oh, wait. He was already stressed over that too.

**From: Connie  
u have like 27 missed calls from him**

**From: Connie  
n he doesnt seem happy about that**

2…27?!

**To: Connie  
WHAT!**

**From: Connie  
yeah aaaaaaaaaaaaand he’s drunk**

He was sure the whole shop was looking at him when he growled against his hands, rubbing his face, trying to relax. It wasn’t normal when Jean looked for him like that. Yeah, they were good friends and they usually talked daily. But 27 missed calls? Drunk? Something wasn’t right. And he wasn’t in the best position to give him moral support. HE WAS THE ONE WHO NEEDED MORAL SUPPORT FOR GOD’S SAKE.

Breathing deeply again, he looked at the phone.

**To: Connie  
Ughhhhhhh on my way**

 

* * *

 

“What the hell did you told him, Connie?” Was the first thing that came from Marco’s mouth once he stepped in to his room.

Connie was on his bed, playing DS without shame. He raised his eyes when his best friend nearly falls in the doorway and he left his game, getting closer to Marco’s desk once he got to sit down in front of it.

“I didn’t do anything,” Connie explained, watching Marco reading the messages Connie and Jean had exchanged.

 And even if Connie was telling the truth, just because Connie had tell Jean Marco was in the room and Jean thought Marco was messing with him, it was really the Californian who had start the conversation.

“I wouldn’t have so many missed calls if you wouldn’t get online,” Marco murmured, gasping with his face again in his hands.

“If you hadn’t noticed,” Connie went back to his bed, sitting against the wall, taking back his DS, “Your friend could be very persistent.”

“Yes, yes,” Marco moved himself to pick up the earphones he had on his night stand, connecting them to his laptop, “Just please be quiet, I want to know what’s wrong.”

Connie manages to mimic a zipper over his mouth before getting lost in his game again, just as Marco called Jean.

“Dude! What th’fuck?”

He didn’t had to wait too much for Jean to pick up the call, slurring the words, and even if he was expecting him to sound mad, he seemed more mad at his own computer than with Marco for not answering his calls.

“Are you really that drunk?” Marco raised an eyebrow, without managing not to smile while hearing Jean in that condition.

“… Mayb’ a little.”

Marco sighed before continuing, “Do I really want to know what happened? You nearly waste the free calls in your skype.”

“All calls in skype’re free, so shush… Why didn’t you’snwer?”

“Cause I wasn’t home ok? I’m sorry.”

“No,” he could hear Jean sighing against the microphone, making him have chills, “I’m the one’s sorry.”

Marco bit his lip. It wasn’t easy being mad at Jean. He couldn’t bring himself to be when Jean sounded so sad… and drunk at the same time. He had to admit it, he sounded cute even if he slurred when he talked. A little smile escaped from his lips imagining how it would be if they were in the same place.

“What happened?” Marco shook his head, remembering why he was calling the blond, “Is everything ok?”

Jean growled in the other side, “Not really.”

“Wanna talk about it? Or should I be worried and call Armin for reinforcements?”

Marco could see how Connie lifted his head. He ignored him. Yes, as much as he didn’t liked the nudist model, it didn’t matter when he was actually a person Jean really cared about, and in all cases, was the closest person Jean had.

“No… don’t call Armin,” Jean said in a barely audible whisper, making Marco blink, “It’s ‘bout him.”

“Oh,” was all Marco said, trying to connect the dots.

All right. Connecting the dots: Jean was in his room at… four in the afternoon? Drunk. He didn’t want to talk to Armin. And it was because of Armin that he was in those conditions.

Have you ever felt bad because you’re feeling good when in a situation like this, where he should be feeling bad for Jean? Marco didn’t know there would be a situation like that in his life, and it was because of that, that he nearly hurt his lip because of how hard he was biting it.

“’Re you alone in there?” Jean asked, restrained.

“Um… wait a second.”

Without thinking it twice, he silenced the microphone, turning to look at Connie.

“Dude, could you just…?” somewhat uneasy, he pointed at the door, making Connie blink,

“What the…” Connie opened his mouth, not believing he was being kicked out of his own room.

“Please,” Marco put his hands together over his head, as if praying, “Please, dude, I’ll do whatever you want and I’ll forgive you for getting me in this mess.”

Connie was silent for a few seconds, before sighing and getting his shoes on, walking to the door, “Is about his boyfriend, isn’t it?”

Marco nodded, feeling his heart shrank with a little light of hope in his chest.

“All right, but just for the record I’m not doing this for the favor, but because I’m a good friend,” Connie opened the door.

“Thanks,” Marco whispered when Connie closed the door.

He put his microphone on again, getting nervous.

“Ready,” was all Marco said disturbing the silence.

“Sure?” Jean sounded a little bit calmer.

“Clear as water,” Marco smiled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ok…” he heard how Jean sat again in his chair, “So… I’ve been datin’ Armin for how long?... Two months? And… I think things’re gettin’ a little too serious between us.”

“Oh,” Marco said again, not so sure of what to say when Jean kept silent, “But… that’s a good thing, isn’t it? That’s when you know you’re doing things right.”

“Yeah… I guesso.”

“So… Why do you sound like it’s a bad thing?”

“Becaus’ I messed it up, Marco,” Jean sobbed against the microphone, “I’m a fuckin’ idiot becaus' I messed it up.”

“Hey, relax, breathe, and tell me what happened,” Marco put his hands in front of the screen, as if with that he would comfort his friend, even if he could watch him.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Hey, you know me better,” Marco encouraged him.

“…” he heard another sigh from Jean, “You remember this project of the Liberty Statue? The one I did on clay?”

“Mhm.”

“Well… I need to make it in human scale before break and… well, I _have_ a model boyfriend. I mean he’s… he’s helpin’ me n’ that but… we were at his place and suddenly I’m pinned against his bed n’ I’m topless n’ he’s on top of me with half of his clothes off n’ I just…”

“Okai, too much information, dude…” Marco needed to stop him before he started breaking his heart (too late for that). He didn’t know if Jean was that drunk to start talking with details, but he had got the idea of what had happened, “Just… tell me what went wrong, not the whole story.”

“That’s when it went wron’.”

“Huh?”

“I freacked out n’ stoped ‘im,” Jean deadpanned.

“You… you what?”

“I’m a coward because’ I freaked out when m’boyfriend tried to have sex with me.”

Oh. Fuck.

That wasn’t good. That was anything but good. That could only mean one thing. That Jean was wrong. That Jean wasn’t a person who enjoyed men as he did with women.

“Did… something like that happened before?” Marco gulped. His hands started sweating, and that little light of hope in his chest was dying little by little, “I mean… with other dudes? Or with girls?”

“What?” Jean asked confused, “No, dude. I’m… okay, here I go: I’m a virgin.”

Marco blinked, waiting for Jean to continue, but he didn’t.

“You’re not gonna laugh?” the blond asked after a minute.

“Why would I?” Marco asked, “I’m… I’m too, so… I don’t think that’s a bad thing. At least not for me.”

“Oh…” Jean giggled, and Marco wasn’t sure if that was something good or not, “Well… that makes two of us…”

“If you’re asking yourself if that makes you gay or not, just answer me: do you feel butterflies in your stomach when you talk or see some dudes that are attractive for you?”

“Um… yeah, I mean, I feel them when I see Armin smilin’, n’ when he sees when I’m done with a painting or a sculpture of him. N’ I mean, I’m definitely not asexual because’ I jerk myself off ‘n…”

“Dude.”

“Sorry,” Jean breathed hard, “You get me. It just… didn’t happen right there…”

Marco stayed quiet for a minute. Jean didn’t push him for an answer, which made him feel good. Jean trusted him to give him advice, although his own experience in that subject was equal to zero. So he just said the more logical explanation that came to his mind.

“Maybe you weren’t ready yet… and I guess Armin didn’t took it well,” it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, and he knew that was the reason why Jean had drink without stopping until he got drunk, “I think you need to rest first, take a shower and let the things calm down a little. Then you _need_ to go to Armin and tell him you’re sorry. You’re still in love with him, right?”

“... Yeah… I am.”

Marco took a deep breathe, trying to control his heartbeat.

“Then go and tell him you love him, and that you weren’t ready, at least not yet. I’m sure he will understand.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.”

They kept quiet for a moment. Marco rubbed his face again trying hard not to cry. He wanted to end the call, but he didn’t find a good excuse to do it. For the first time in two months he had ran out of excuses and lies to keep Jean away.

“Hey, Marco?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks… For everything. I wish you could be here; I will hug you… Like! As a brohug, of course!”

Marco smiled when he heard him giggle. A hug from Jean didn’t sound half bad after all.

“Yeah, that would be nice.”

“So, I’m goin’. Need to fix the mess I’m right now. Talk to you later?”

“Sure, Jean. And good luck.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna need it.”

_Call Ended._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [Nate](http://natethecat.tumblr.com/) for the beta testing!
> 
> You guys are so so sweet!!! I never expected to get so much kudos and comments for this fic but you guys are too good for me!
> 
> Also, you can insist me to update right [here](http://irisnairel.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The week from hell is strong with Marco.  
> Also, sorry I’m not sorry for this chapter!

When you feel that you are lacking air when you’re running, you know you need to stop. When you weigh over the average, it’s common that this might happen without the necessity of running a long distance. That feeling you get when the air is burning your lungs, when your throat closes, and your eyes feel wet…

Well, maybe that was because he was nearly choked and there were tears running down his cheeks.

Marco had had a week from hell. He didn’t want to talk to Connie, he didn’t want to talk to Sasha, he _didn’t_ want to talk to Jean. He didn’t want to talk to anybody. He just wanted to reach Hanji’s cubicle and finish it once for all.

He didn’t even stop at the stairs. He didn’t care how much his lungs were shrinking. Only when he reached the second level did he dare to stop. He fell to his knees and took a breath, wetting the floor with two or three tears. He licked his dry lips between sobs, wiping the sweat and his tears with the back of his hand.

Sweat and tears. If someone dared to ask Marco what meant love to him, that was probably the answer he would give.

He began to trot to the hallway, ignoring some girls seated on a bench giggling at some video they were watching on someone’s phone. Starting to sound like a constipated bull, Marco turned right, and started to count down the cubicles. He knew Hanji’s was just right next to Professor Mike Zacharius’.

Watching the door close, Marco didn’t care what Hanji was doing, or who was with them, but when he opened the door with more force than necessary, he found that they were having a meeting with Professor Levi, who raised an eyebrow without much interest at the sweaty student at his partner’s door.

“Marco!”  Hanji shouted, standing up in surprise with their hands on the desk, “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

“Professor Hanji,” Marco swallowed, which was difficult to do since his throat was dry, “P-professor Levi.”

The latter mentioned nearly nodded, looking out the window behind Hanji’s desk.

“Is everything all right?” Hanji asked again, noting the tears on Marco’s cheeks, “Do you need some water? You can wait outsi-”

“Professor…” Marco breathed again, trying to make his voice sound firm, “This can’t wait. I-I’ll be brief.”

“Uh…” Hanji looked over at Levi, but as soon as he shrugged, Hanji turned to look back at Marco, a worried grin on their face, “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“I-I know my grade depends not only on my work but…” Marco sighed, looking at his belly, getting the courage to raise his head and look his professor in the eye. But after a few minutes of struggling with his heartbeat and his tears, he only managed to whisper, “I closed my tumblr.”

 

* * *

 

The first sign of the week from hell happened late on Monday. Connie had his late programming classes and he was sure Sasha was planning on taking him to the movies. So he had the room for himself for the rest of the evening.

Skype was unusually quiet. There was no sign of Jean, and he supposed he won’t be online till midnight.

So… he was there. Alone. In his room. Thinking about Jean. Actually, everything reminded him of Jean. He rubbed his face, leaving his phone on his bed next to him. He was hopelessly in love with him and there was nothing he could do about that. It was really lame. He even helped Jean in a romantic crisis. Who even does that?

Friends. Friends do that for each other right? Because that was what they were. Friends. Jean and Marco were _just_ friends. But it was nice to imagine sometimes that Jean was right there with him. That Jean would totally smile in the exact moment Marco would open the door to let him in. That he would sit on his bed with him and Jean would complain about his classes. Marco would probably start playing a game on his phone to keep his eyes off Jean. Maybe Jean would start to ramble and he would end up resting his head on Marco’s legs, and they could talk about what they were going to do during the break.

And maybe, just maybe, Marco would tangle his fingers through Jean’s sandy hair, and maybe, just maybe, Jean would hum in pleasure.

Marco growled against his hands when the imaginary and nonexistent moan from Jean filled his mind. Would he really sound like that? His sexy voice would drop and rasp low in his throat, so low that only those who were next to him would be able to hear it. And the sound would go straight down south.

Marco took his hands off his face, self-conscious that he was redder than a traffic light. He took a deep breath, and he was sure something was really, _really_ bad when his breath shook as the air came in.

If Jean gave him a chance, he was pretty sure he would take full advantage of it. And he was sure that Connie and Jean will get along perfectly; both of them were videogame nerds, after all. Marco smiled at the possibility of spending a weekend in his room, with just a Wii console, some snacks and a lazy mood.

He closed his eyes with a soft sigh, perfectly imagining how Jean would complain about the cheats Connie always used on the games. If he could remember correctly, Mario Kart was one of Jean’s favorites; he always played it with his friend… Ymir? Marco could never remember other people’s names when he didn’t know them, except for…

 _It’s okay, Marco_ , he thought when a guilty wave filled him when he thought about Armin, _he’s alright in this alternative universe, he’s happy with someone else…_

He settled his back against his bed, took a deep breath, and he could nearly hear Jean’s rough voice complaining when he lost for the fourth time against Connie.

“Dude, you always pick that damn road!” Jean pointed viciously at the screen when his Yoshi finished 5th on Rainbow Road. A very proud Connie smiled from the top of his bed down at both Marco and Jean, sat on the floor right next to each other. “And how the hell did you get that blue shell out of nowhere?! You are cheating me, man!”

“It’s not my fault you’re such a lame loser, Jean,” Connie said in a pretentious voice, making Jean pout more.

“YOU WERE IN SECOND PLACE! YOU ONLY GET THOSE ITEMS WHEN YOU’RE IN THE LAST FUCKING PLACE!”

“Lame loser,” Connie sang, already having chosen the next race.

Jean breathed too hard, looking like a mad bull. Seeing that his tantrum wasn’t going to achieve anything with the bald kid, he turned to Marco, who was paying more attention to his book than the superb race in the screen, “Babe! He’s cheating again! Tell him something!”

That threw Marco a cold bucket in the face. Yeah, that single pet name. God he would kill to hear Jean call him that again. Or at least to just look at those gold eyes that were in front of him, just the way they were looking at him.

“Yeah, man. I’ll be waiting for your scold once you finish having your aneurism,” Connie laughed to himself, making Marco wake up from his reverie, feeling himself hot at the back of his neck and the tips of his ears. Jean only chuckled, forgiving Connie for his cheating, and he moved to rest his head on Marco’s belly, looking again at the race that Connie was starting.

But Marco couldn’t take his eyes off the blond guy, resting so peacefully against him like he was the perfect pillow. He saw him biting his bottom lip as a result of concentration. Marco didn’t care who was winning this time. All he could care right now was his unbelievable luck. He was lucky to have this cute guy resting on his stomach, he was lucky to have him call him ‘babe’. He was just lucky in general just because Jean was enjoying his time with him, even if they were just sitting right next to each other. He was lucky that he had the facility to make Jean smile.

Without thinking twice, Marco started mixing his fingers in Jean’s hair, messy from the old red beanie he always wore when he wasn’t having a good hair day. It didn’t matter about its presentation; Marco would always look forward to passing the time combing those gold strings. He was so lost in his duty that he almost missed the loud hoot from Connie’s phone, making him pause the game to look at the new incoming text.

“Sasha wants me to go and watch a movie,” Connie said while closing his phone and looking at both of them. “She says her roommate is gonna be out this weekend so we have her room to ourselves.”

“Watch out,” Jean said maliciously with a grin, but his smile faded when Connie hit the exit button, not saving the game, “Dude, what the _fuck_! I was _winning_!”

“My girl is calling for me,” Connie wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making Jean roll his eyes.

“Sure, dude, whatever, who is the lame loser now?”

“Oh, don’t cry you little baby,” Connie sneered at him while throwing a handful of clothes into his bag, checking his keys were in his pockets at the same time. “See you later, guys. Maybe you could get something good from me leaving this place for the weekend! You’d have all that time to yourselves.”

Just before Marco could say anything to Connie, he saw his friend freaking _wink_ at them before leaving the room, setting his face on fire and just knowing to hide his face from a cackling Jean.

“Oh my god.” Marco’s hands muffled his cry once he was sure Connie wouldn’t come back. “Please tell me… why am I friends with him?”

“Oh, come on! He was just doing it on purpose to make you feel awkward.”

Marco gained enough courage to peck out between his fingers a little, hearing the door shutting with a click. Jean was already up, turning the TV off, and he kept standing there for a few minutes, getting the disk out of the console and leaving it over its box. “So, what do you want to do?”

Marco blinked a few times, feeling his heart falling into peace when he heard the calm voice from his boyfriend. A wave of warmth filled his chest at the thought. Jean was with him, and he liked it. Jean liked to spend time with him, that’s why he asked him if he wanted to do something. He hadn’t just left the moment Connie went out the door. That made him smile.

He liked it.

He liked it _so much_.

“Marco?” he heard Jean chuckle in the back of his mind, so he looked up at him, not noticing that he had moved back to him until he was on his knees right in front of him. “What are you thinking, love?”

He was pretty sure he could feel his face light up on fire. Jean chuckled again and came closer. Marco tried to talk, but just a lame whine escaped from his lips when Jean got so close to him, he could drink up his scent- and it tasted good.

“I… I love you.” Marco managed to say, feeling the shiver in his voice.

But Jean didn’t laugh. He just kept looking at him right in the eye. After a brief second of silence, in which Marco could feel his forehead dampen in sweat — _great, Marco_ , he thought, _make this cute moment awkward and gross_ — Jean took a little step forward and pressed his lips slightly over Marco’s, making him press his back to the bed a little more.

“And I love you too,” was all Jean could whisper against his lips before melting into a soft kiss, fragile as if Jean could break something with his lips. A kiss that took Marco by surprise, taking out all the air from his lungs, his brain going on standby whilst Jean came closer still, sitting on Marco’s legs, embracing him around his waist and barely touching his face with his fingertips.

Releasing a shaky breath, Marco closed his eyes, relaxing his shoulders considerably and bracing Jean’s thin figure between his arms, keeping him close. If someone had told him kissing Jean would be as delusional as taking sugar candy for the first time, he would never have believed it. That feeling you get when each bite melts in your mouth, the sweet taste gives you goosebumps, and you let out a tiny whine when you decide you want to try a little bit more.

That was how Jean tasted. Sugar candy, with a sweet touch of vanilla. Perfect.

Marco let out a giggle when Jean left his lips to kiss his chin, going down his neck.

Jean was leaving a path of kisses in his skin, ending at the tender part of his shoulders. “Jean!” Marco laughed. “Don’t do that, it tickles.”

“But it’s the only way to make you smile.” Jean moved his kisses up his throat, leaving a bunch of them here and there, a couple on his cheeks, on his eyelids, his forehead and his nose.

“You don’t have to do that to make me smile,” Marco said, managing to stroke Jean’s cheek with his thumb.

“What is the simplest thing I have to do to make you smile?” Jean asked, his gaze leaving only a few centimeters hanging between them.

“Just say my name.”

Marco regretted saying that out loud, because he was so cheesy and so embarrassing and he might have just killed the moment. But Jean’s smile grew wider, leaving another little kiss on the tip of Marco’s nose, as if to say, _I’m the cheesy one here, dude_.

“So, _Marco_ ,” the freckled one nearly shook like an earthquake when he heard the blonde’s rough and heavy voice right next to his ear, “I’ll ask you again. What do you want to do? Because I have something in mind.”

The little whine that escaped from Marco’s lips were the only answer that Jean could have waited for after he rested his open hand on Marco’s chest, massaging genlty over his shirt while going down little by little, breathing softly to his ear.

“J-Jean…”

“Yeah?” Jean let a lazy kiss on the bottom of Marco’s ear, tiptoeing his long fingers down his belly to the beginning of Marco’s sweatpants.

“I d-don’t think…”

“Why not?” Marco could swear that the last shiver his body had was involuntary when Jean bit and pulled at the soft flesh of his ear, “Connie is not coming back… we have your room to ourselves all weekend.”

Another shiver ran through his spine when Jean slipped one cold finger into his sweatpants, making slow circles over his underwear.

“C’mon, babe,” the way Jean dragged words was making Marco dizzy, not helping with the shakes and shivers that single finger over his most sensitive area was giving him, “You know what makes me smile too?” Marco didn’t know he had closed his eyes until he forced himself to open them halfway to see the grin on Jean’s face when he rested his forehead on Marco’s. He needed to read Jean’s lips- if he heard him talk in that raspy voice he would pass out any second. “When you moan my name, when I’m making you feel so good.”

A small hiss escaped Marco’s lips when Jean deliberately slipped his long and cold fingers under his boxers, taking Marco’s itching dick in his hand, giving it a squeeze and making Marco’s hips twitch at the same time Jean’s hand started moving up and down his length.

Messy kisses were delivered here and there, trying to ease the tension on Marco’s lips where he was biting them. The shakes in his body were more evident with each stroke Jean gave to his aching dick, hot against Jean’s hand. His breathing was heavy and uneven with each second passing, noises muffled with sloppy kisses and the forgotten book next to them on the floor.

“J-Jean… I’m… g-gonna…”

“Mmm… yeah?...” Jean nuzzled his lips on Marco’s jaw, watching his boyfriend’s face with eyes open wide, not bothering to hide his smile, “Let me see you com…”

“OH MY GOD! MARCO, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Hearing Connie’s voice as he opened the door wasn’t what he expected. The heavy pressure on Marco’s gut disappeared as well as the weight of Jean’s body on his side.

Wait. Wasn’t Connie supposed to be at Sasha’s anyway? Why did he come back then? He waited for Jean to say something, but when he opened his eyes, Jean was nowhere to be seen. Connie was at the door covering his eyes with his hand. Marco was sitting on his bed instead of the floor and the hand wrapped around his dick was…

“DUDE THAT’S FUCKING DISGUSTING!”

Oh, yeah. He was fantasizing, alone, about Jean. About Jean being his boyfriend and actually wanting to be with him and not being as disgusted as Connie was. Because it was lame how he was giving himself pleasure with half of his shirt up, resting his exposed belly all over the mattress and his most private part covered just by his hand.

“Cover up, Marco. I really don’t want to see that.”

 _Yeah, because who would like that?_ His subconscious told him.

“I-I’m sorry…” Marco nearly whispered the apology as he covered himself, and without second thoughts and full of embarrassment, he stood up and made his way out the door.

“Hey! Marco! Wait!”

He didn’t bother to say another thing to Connie. He understood why he was disgusting. Instead of waiting for the elevator, he opened the door to the stairs, wanting to get out of there. To be out of everybody’s sight. He didn’t want to be seen, not after what he had been doing. He felt dirty; he had been so close to coming, he didn’t want to know what would have happened if Connie had entered the room a second later...

Tears were forming in his eyes, his vision became blurry, and he needed to support himself on the rail not to fall forward. After a few seconds his tears were inevitable. He let himself sit down on the stairs of the second floor, beginning to sob uncontrollably. When his tears wet his pants and the floor, he immediately whipped his eyes to stop them from falling.

It was so pathetic. He had nearly believed that Jean was there with him, making him feel good. How could he mix the sound of the key entering the lock with one of Jean’s soft moans? As if Jean’s sounds were like that, he had to remind himself. He would never know that. Jean would never actually like someone like him. Why would he? He already had a blonde Adonis by his side.

Marco was meant to be disgusting. Was meant to be alone for the rest of his life, he had to remember that. He had good friends, yeah. But no one would ever touch him or talk to him like he had imagined Jean would just minutes earlier. It was nice to imagine it, but it was worse when reality hit home. Because these thoughts and fantasies would never become true, and all he would have left would be a hand and some blankets stained with himself.

Bringing his knees up, Marco rested his arms there, covering his eyes from the dim light entering the small windows above him. Connie had never said something so hurtful to him before. He was usually the one defending him when other boys made fun of Marco.

It was what hurt the most. His best friend was the one who hurt him in his most vulnerable state. He didn’t blame him, though. Nobody likes to see a fat person masturbating…

Another whimper escaped his lips at the thought. Nobody…

“MARCO?!”

He jumped when he heard his name, and he knew it was a matter of seconds for Connie to finally find him. He didn’t want it though. He didn’t want to be found, to be seen. He wanted to be small instead of big. To disappear for a few hours…

“HEY! MARCO! ARE YOU HERE?!” another round of screams made him shiver.

He didn’t know how to face Connie. He didn’t want pity or disappointment from anyone but himself. But some close footsteps told him that he would need a way to face him, and fast.

“Marco! Don’t move from there, do you hear me?!” Connie’s voice told him he had found him on his not so little hideout. He just made himself smaller, waiting for the next hateful things to spill from Connie’s mouth.

“Hey, dude, are you alright?” Marco didn’t let Connie put his hand on his shoulder when he tried, “What’s wrong? Why did you left like the dorm was on fire?”

Marco directed his eyes to the floor of the next step, finding it far more interesting that his friend’s questions.

“Marco?” Connie tried again.

“I t-told you I’m s-sorry you had to see that,” Marco said after a sniff, not looking up from the step.

“Oh, dude, I’m sorry too, I should have knocked or something,” Marco blinked and a few teardrops fall to his cheeks when he heard Connie chuckle when he said it.

Was he really apologizing for entering his own room without knocking? What about all the things he had said?

“I k-know it must have been pre-pretty disgusting to you…”

“Hell it was.”

That answer made him sob again, and this time he didn’t turn away when Connie rub his back with small circles.

“But it’s nothing compared with that time I entered Reiner and Berthold’s room when they were doing it on the floor. That, my friend, was _sick_.”

Marco turned his head to look at his bald friend, totally shocked.

“You… Did you…?”

“Yeah, I agreed never to mention it,” Connie rolled his eyes, but the shy smile was still on his lips, “Only because Reiner threatened me to tell me how to have great anal sex against the window.”

“Ugh.” Marco wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“I know, right?” Connie smiled tenderly at him.

“So…” Marco sniffed again, looking a little less embarrassed, “You didn’t find me disgusting because I was…”

“Dude, I’m always gonna be disgusted when I found a guy doing what guys do with themselves, you know?” Connie shrugged looking at the wall in front of them, “The only thing that I’m never gonna be disgusted is a sweet girl on a bed for me. You guys are into dicks instead of that? Cool! I just prefer tits and not dicks.”

Marco finally let out a light chuckle against his arms and stayed quiet for a while, while Connie stopped rubbing his back and let out a content sigh, enjoying each other’s company.

After a brief moment, the silence began to be a little uncomfortable, considering both of them were watching the stairs’ wall all the time.

“I know I’m gonna regret asking this but…” Marco looked back at Connie, raising an eyebrow, “Was _he_ at least good at what he was doing in your mind?”

“OH _MY_ GOD, CONNIE!”

 

* * *

 

After that totally uncomfortable walk back to the dorms where Connie couldn’t help but laugh at Marco’s expenses, things didn’t seem as bad as he expected them to be after all that.

On Wednesday, Hanji had told Marco he still needed to start picking up his photos for the main exhibition, which would be held in just a few months. So here he was: picking a bunch of photos he has taken with his own camera and some poor scans from photos Hanji had revealed from Maggie.

His eyes were sore from spending almost three hours editing the pictures on Photoshop to resemble the original work. He needed to buy a better scanner; he made a mental note for when his parents sent him a little bit of money next month.

He was still looking at the original photograph to edit on the screen when a loud sound on his speakers made him sigh. After a good look at the picture in front of him, he clicked on the origin of the noise.

_Jean Kirschtein: hey_

_Marco: Hello_

_Jean Kirschtein: i’ve been so booooooooooooooored_

Marco chuckled, clearly hearing Jean groan as he typed the infinite ‘o’s. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and a smile appeared on his lips before moving the photograph aside.

_Marco: I don’t know why, I know you being bored means you have been eating and watching movies all day?_

_Jean Kirschtein: cause you know me too much_

The freckled boy rested his hands over his belly, pleased as he read over and over again that last statement with a small smile.

_Jean Kirschtein: so what are you up to man?_

_Marco: Editing a few photos I took with Maggie_

_Jean Kirschtein: Maggie huh? new girlfriend?_

_Marco: Ha ha, you’re so funny_

_Jean Kirschtein: dude never give up the gorgeous body of a woman!_

_Marco: So you’re going to ask Armin to wear fake boobs?_

_Jean Kirschtein: god no, that kid has enough with his own_

_Marco: I… really don’t know how to respond to that_

_Jean Kirschtein: he doesn’t necessarily have like… huge boobs, if you copy me_

_Marco: OH_

He bit his thumb, feeling his stomach shrink. He deserved that, he was the one who brought up Armin in the first place. Well, another thing to feel inferior to the blond guy.

_Jean Kirschtein: are you still editing?_

_Marco: Yeah, I was just taking a little break for my eyes. I’ve been up to this for almost three hours_

_Jean Kirschtein: commitment at its finest_

_Marco: You could say… I need to keep going tho_

_Jean Kirschtein: editing?_

_Marco: Yup_

_Jean Kirschtein: can I call you then? you wont need to type that way_

_Marco: Sure_

It was normally Jean who initiated the calls, so he opened Photoshop and remembered where he had left his work before turning his full attention to the original photograph. Unconsciously, he reached the mouse next to his keyboard and out of the corner of his eye he was pretty sure he clicked the green button. Waiting for the connection to be successful, he kept his focus on the photo, trying to memorize the grey tone it had to get it exactly on the screen.

“Wait,” he heard Jean mumble on his speakers when finally the connection was settled, “Let me get my glasses on.”

“I didn’t know you used glasses…”

…

…

Yeah, he needed to pay more attention to what he accepted on Skype because, you know, you could END UP ACCEPTING A VIDEO CALL INSTEAD OF A SIMPLE CALL AND GET TO LOOK AT THIS GORGEOUS MAN FOCUSING HIS GLASSES WHILE HE SMILED AT THE WEBCAM.

“There we go,” Jean’s voice filled the room where you could only hear Marco’s frantic heart beat, “Hey there.”

Wait… He could see him? Marco moved his eyes and only his eyes to the little square on the lower corner of his screen where he could see himself completely frozen.

“Nice to finally meet you, dude.”

Yeah, he was watching him.

And oh God, he could watch and drink the entire fuzzy image on his screen. Full screen. This guy, totally Jean if you compared him to the photo he managed to save on his phone, had cute messy blond hair on the top of his head, and the dark undercut was a little bit longer than in the photo. He didn’t have the amazing military shirt fitting his torso, but a loose white and stained shirt that made him look more like an artist than a top model. And instead of the amazing aviator sunglasses, there were some lame black hipster glasses in front of those golden eyes. He could make their color even with that crappy quality image. And god, he was gorgeous…

“Wow,” he thought he heard some noise on the room, he wasn’t sure, but it sounded just like Jean, “You are actually cute, Marco.”

He… did not…just… say THAT.

Abort! Abort! Abort! was all his brain was screaming with full force. His mind started to panic, still not processing the full meaning of the words he had just heard, and tried to make his hand move to close the conversation. He thought he might start making Jean worry because of the look of complete horror on his face, but Jean was calm and still managing to make a shy smile at the camera, waiting for an answer, for anything. So he must have been just completely frozen at Jean’s screen.

“Hello?” Yeap, totally frozen, “Can you hear me, Marco?”

Yes, he could hear him and it was just so perfect because his voice was perfectly raspy and sexy in combination with the image he was watching. He had never seen an angel before, and that angel was talking to him while he looked like a complete idiot.

“Shit, my screen is frozen,” Jean moved something at his side of the screen but Marco couldn’t work out what, his brain was in standby. “Marco? Can you hear me? I’m gonna restart this thing, ok? Um… Shit, I should just type you…”

And with that, the image was gone and the white screen of the Skype chat window seemed to tell him that it was over, that it was all a dream. That he didn’t actually heard Jean calling him cute.

He groaned at himself and let his face fell on his hands, photograph forgotten in the floor, and he heard his sob muffled by the sound of a few text messages and a new Skype call.

Marco couldn’t bring himself to face Jean again. Not right now. He had seen him. He had been exposed. He wasn’t able to hide behind anonymity anymore because Jean had already seen him by mistake.

“Fuck…” he told himself not to cry when the call kept ringing. He had to face Jean, at least tell him what was going on and…

_Jean Kirschtein: pick up, man_

_Jean had written when Marco didn’t answer the second video call he had initiated._

_Marco: I’m sorry, I…_

He didn’t actually know what to type, so he didn’t send that message. He was sure that saying ‘Sorry, I panicked and I can’t seem to get the courage to let you see me again because I’m a coward’ wasn’t a good answer. So he had to lie… Again.

_Marco: I’m sorry, it seems Photoshop is making my Skype slow, you know… editing photos and stuff…_

_Jean Kirschtein: oh! yeah, i forgot about that, so what about a call then?_

_Marco: Wait, I got a call from Hanji, they need to see me at their office, need to go actually_

_Jean Kirschtein: sure sure, sorry for breaking your laptop or… something_

_Marco: It’s okay, talk to you soon then?_

He saw the little pencil icon moving at the bottom of his screen, then erasing, then moving again. Erasing, writing, erasing, writing.

_Jean Kirschtein: sure_

_Marco: Take care!_

He didn’t let Jean answer that, he was out of Skype in a millisecond. Another muffled groan against his hands filled his room before he let his head hang from the back of his chair.

This was surreal, the fact that he had seen Jean moving and talking and smiling at him. He wanted to forget what he had actually heard him say, but…

He stood up and grabbed his jacket from his closet and headed out the door.

He needed fresh air.

 

* * *

 

After the video incident that neither of them tried to repeat, Marco finally managed to open his laptop on Friday. There was no sign of Jean at Skype when he logged in, and that finally let him breathe. There were no messages, nothing. So he could feel himself relax, and he finished editing the same photo he had been fixing before the whole event.

After not sleeping until 4 am and getting a severe scolding from Connie for keeping the lights off to work, Marco decided to have a lazy Saturday, lying on his back with his computer on his lap while scrolling, bored, through his dashboard. He hadn’t updated his blog since he had seen Jean in full color and wide screen, so maybe it was a good idea if he chose some of the dumbest photos he had and post them to make up for the lost days.

After looking for some photos that were reasonably nice to be seen, he came back to tumblr and posted the first photo of the day, letting it upload while he took a pop tart from his secret compartment under his bed. He knew he needed to have one when Sasha visited their room for the first time last semester, finishing anything that resembled food.

When the photo was up, his dashboard updated. His heart stopped for just one second when he saw Jean was updating his blog as well, but instead of branches against the light of dawn, his were selfies. With Armin.

He knew he needed to stop. He knew that he would regret watching them after all that happened during the week. His head was screaming at him, but his heart melted when the first selfie of Jean laughing hard at the camera appeared in the screen. That made him smile, because he looked too young and so carefree. He looked happy.

Marco decided to look at the bright side of the photo. It might not be him who made that smile appear in his face, but Jean deserved to be happy, and if Armin was the one who could make him laugh like that, then it was worth it. Because when you love someone, you want them to be happy over anything else in this world. Or something like that.

There were a bunch more selfies; Jean and Armin making faces at the camera, Armin making a cute face, Jean focused at the screen of the computer, Jean modeling his sculpture, Jean standing proud near an oil painting, Armin mopping at Jean’s asleep face, Armin looking lovingly at Jean’s peaceful sleepy face, like there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

His heart sank heavily in his chest as the best description he could manage to formulate at that picture crossed his mind. The most depressing thing about it was that Jean didn’t take the time to add a description by himself, leaving that beautiful picture untitled.

Aside from that, he wasn’t stupid to actually not recognize when a person was deeply in love with their partner, and Armin truly cared about Jean. Marco needed to accept the fact that maybe Armin was the right person for Jean. And not someone so pathetically unsure of himself as his freckled ass.

So he liked the post, because of the content and the untitled love of those two. Because he was trying to let it go, to wish them happiness, because they deserved all the good things in the world…

_Jean Kirschtein: Hey_

The jump he did in his bed was enough to let his laptop slip to the mattress in a comical way. He’d forgotten that his Skype was online and that his volume was at the top.

He laughed at himself. For someone trying so desperately to let the love of his life free to be with whoever he wanted, Jean was pretty persistent to stay in the same place, at least not consciously.

_Marco: Hello! I didn’t see you online, sorry_

_Jean Kirschtein: It’s okay, I was just invisible all this time_

_Marco: Oh, that makes a lot of sense then hehe_

_Marco: So_

_Marco: I see you managed to make up with Armin_

_Jean Kirschtein: What?_

_Marco: You know? When you messed up? The day you drank_

_Jean Kirschtein: Oh, yeah. I have pretty blurry memory from that day, what did I tell you again?_

_Marco: Uhhh… First of all you harassed Connie to get his ass online and then I came and you told me you couldn’t continue with Armin because you freaked out_

_Jean Kirschtein: Did I tell you why?_

_Marco: Uhhh… no? Is there a reason why?_

_Jean Kirschtein: No, I was just wondering._

Quite a mood for Jean Kirschtein. Maybe he was having a bad day?

_Jean Kirschtein: Yeah, we made up after that, guess you gave me pretty good advice after I talked to you._

_Marco: I’m glad I was useful_

_Jean Kirschtein: Mostly because Armin is such a good boy, you know? I bet I have never told you, but he’s… damn. I could never ask for anything better._

A chill ran down Marco’s spine when he read that. Perfect way to start letting the person you love go.

_Marco: I’m glad you found someone you can be that happy with :)_

Fucking stupid smiley face. He shoved his face with his hands letting out a strong sigh. This was going to be a road to hell if Jean kept rubbing it in his face.

So he happily let the conversation die there and kept himself busy choosing a bunch more of photos to upload in his blog. It was weird. This was the very first weird conversation with Jean since he had met him. He was usually cheery, and his words weren’t as dry as they had been in their brief chat. Like he said, maybe Jean was having a bad day. Jean would usually tell him, but not today. Well, at least he wasn’t taking it out on him.

He almost successfully ignored the itchy window in his tool bar that showed no sign of activity, until the sound of a new message reached his ears.

_Jean Kirschtein: So… About the other day I saw you._

_You called me cute_ _._ Marco slapped himself mentally. That was not the moment to think about it. And he had already made a pact to suppress that word from his vocabulary. Jean didn’t mean it in the way Marco had wanted him to.

_Marco: Yeah, I’m sorry about that, Photoshop was being a pain in the ass_

_Jean Kirschtein: Don’t worry about it. I wanted just to ask you a question._

_Marco: Sure_

The writing pencil was going to give him a freaking heart attack. It seemed like an eternity when the pencil finally dropped and a new text appeared in his screen.

_Jean Kirschtein: Have you ever thought about going on a diet?_

That… was it.

He could hear his heart shattering into a million pieces, each piece breaking into a million pieces more. That was the same question every single person asked when they saw him, knowing him or not. It was the question he had wanted to avoid so much with Jean because he was scared of being judged, being seen like a freak more than a person. Jean was one of the fewest people who he actually wanted to be friends with so much it hurt.

Who was he kidding? He wanted to be more than friends with Jean. But he needed to be realistic. Jean was with another person. And even if he was free, he doubted he would actually be with him after he saw the real “Marco”. The one with fat cheeks. The one who used XXL shirts and even if he tried to do exercise and go on the most rigorous diets, his size would still be the same. And just like now, Jean would ask him that.

He was so so _so_ STUPID for even contemplating the scenario where Jean would actually accept him…

A tiny sob escaped his lips, making him shake from head to toe.

He couldn’t let himself cry. He was a big boy now. He knew someday it would happen. He just didn’t expect it to be so soon.

_Marco: Uhh… yeah. I’ve tried it a few times actually, but anything I do I just can’t seem to get to lose weight_

_Jean Kirschtein: Funny thing._

‘Actually is a medical condition. I’ve been with specialists and…’ He didn’t manage to finish writing his explanation in the most sincere way he could. He wanted to least keep faith in Jean and make him treat him the same way he had until now.

But the message that cut him off showed him the opposite.

_Jean Kirschtein: Now I get it, why you told me nobody got into serious relationships with you. Dude, your size!_

His brain got numb. Nothing in his body or mind seemed to understand the situation and possibly didn’t want to understand it. It was all just so surreal…

_Jean Kirschtein: To be honest with you, people, men in general, don’t like getting into a relationship with chubby people._

_Jean Kirschtein: You know we can be honest with each other right?_

_Jean Kirschtein: Maybe surgery would help you lose some weight and make you look a little more appealing to be on a date? Have you considered that?_

_Marco: No_

Who wrote that?! It wasn’t him! He was still in shock! Jean couldn’t actually be telling him that! Not him. Oh God. This was going to be such a wrecked situation and he wasn’t sure he would be able to get out of there before everything fell down…

_Jean Kirschtein: You should go and ask, maybe you could get a date or two after that._

_Jean Kirschtein: You know? Maybe you shouldn’t have eaten those muffins on February 14 th._

And everything fell down. Everything, all around him, was shattered to pieces and dust. He couldn’t breathe. The air was thick and heavy, the sound of a drum going faster each second it passed, and his limbs heavy and hard pulled him down.

_Jean Kirschtein: I have pity for you, Marco. Maybe if you were skinnier you’d have a chance._

If Marco fainted, there would be absolutely nobody there to wake him up. He needed to get out of there, or at least stop talking about that.

_Marco: I really don’t feel comfortable talking about this, Jean. It’s really rude when you put it like that actually…_

_Jean Kirschtein: I’m just telling the truth._

_Jean Kirschtein: Marco._

A big and ugly sob managed to sound between his lips and his eyes filled with tears at the sight of his name. He was talking about him. He was saying disrespectful things about him when he had done so much for him. He had even told him how to solve his love problems when Marco was clearly in love with Jean. But of course, Jean knew nothing about it. Or he knew? The phrase “you’ll have a chance” made him rethink the situation.

Of fucking course Jean knew about his stupid crush. That stupid blonde knew since the beginning, and he was just rubbing it in his face how skinny he was and his boyfriend was skinny and how only skinny people get to live a happily ever after.

“Well, you know what Jean Kirschtein? FUCK YOU!”

With all his force, he shut the laptop down and shoved it aside and crossed his arms over his belly. He didn’t need a fucking Adonis at the other side of the country to make him feel good with himself. He had done that even before knowing him, so he could do that again. Back to when he didn’t have a tumblr.

* * *

 

“I closed my tumblr.”

“WHAT?!” Hanji walked around the desk to get in front of Marco, not knowing what to do at the sight of the tears, “But why? Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine now,” Marco assured them, more steady now he was saying it out loud, “I-I just… it was more a distraction that a motivation, actually. I have a huge project ahead and I needed to get online and chose from a huge gallery to upload a photo and I can’t keep losing time in nonsense when my great opportunity is coming ahead and…”

“Breathe, kid, yikes,” Hanji looked back to their companion and gave him a reassuring smile, “I’ll go and help him calm down and I’ll be back to you, Levi.”

“Whatever, I have a meeting in a few minutes, so take all the time you need, witch,” Levi answered in a monotone tone while he stood up, looking directly at Marco with no real emotion, “But, brat.”

Marco sniffled once more, cleaning up some tears that were still visible in his cheeks, and that’s why he thought he had been seeing things when Levi smiled at him.

“I like your attitude,” he said quietly, putting a hand over Marco’s shoulder as he passed by out the door, “It will take you far in life.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't look at me ok? This is supposed to happen so Marco can move on and do the freaking gallery exhibition!
> 
> Thank you so much [Lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MonoclePony/pseuds/MonoclePony) for beta reading my fic even after you read one of the saddest fic in the fandom!
> 
> I hope I can update more often now that my professional thesis is done and I just need to present it! But yeeeeeeeesh, no more investigation or school for a while!!!!!
> 
> All the comments are welcome and critics too, so don't be shy and thank you so much for reading.
> 
> For screaming and claims go [here](http://irisnairel.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They said a story has two sides of the coin, so let me tell you what really happened before you keep hating me more. I had my reasons. I made my decision. —Jean's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little change of writing style! I enjoy writing Jean too much because he's just talks too much, and he feels internally more than externally. So I hope I did a good job!

Life is made up from decisions. Some of them are right, most of them are wrong. But all those little failures are the ones that make us grow, and the bad experiences help us in the future and let us choose the best options.

To be honest, standing in the middle of this gallery, I don’t know if it was such a good or a bad decision, but crossing the whole country just to look at him right there, in front of me, with the most shocked expression I won’t see anywhere else seemed to be the only answer to my doubts.

Yeah, maybe traveling all the way from California to Washington just to meet Marco Bodt in person wasn’t such a good idea…

* * *

 

**TWO MONTHS BEFORE**

Shit happens. I’m aware of that. Sometimes all you need to do is let your mind slip a little and forget where you are to do _or_ say the wrong thing. Like right now, when I’m supposed to be drawing the final project from my drawing class, I’m just staring at the blank sheet of paper… where there should be a complex composition, otherwise I’ll be screwed and I will fail the subject.

Or maybe shit happens when you’re in the most passionate moment with your boyfriend in bed, getting hickeys and bites and sloppy kisses all the way down your throat and _accidentally_ calling out another name.

That’s right. This idiot, Jean Kirschtein, called his boyfriend Armin ‘ _Marco_ ’. And it wasn’t just calling him, it was _moaning_ that name the moment after he moaned mine. Of _course_ Armin went the fuck out of my dorm room when I didn’t quite have an explanation for that mistake. Shit, I wasn’t thinking straight! I was just so into the moment and I will never get why the heck I was thinking of Marco in that exact moment.

The point is: it was a pretty delicate matter. It was the very first time Armin and I tried to go that far and I screwed up for letting my mind wander over things I shouldn’t be thinking.

I put on the first items of clothing I could find on my floor and got the fuck out of the dorms to walk to the city. I was disgusted with myself, you know? Why was Marco in my mind in the first place? I talk to the guy almost every day… but nothing else. The guy is funny, is intelligent, he always knows what to say and the way he looks at things through his camera is something I will admire forever. I might be an ace in all the other arts, but I would kill to take some of the shots he has just by his good eye, just by being there, by waiting patiently for the right moment.

I got into the first bar I crossed in town and drowned myself in shitty beer until everything was funny and my legs couldn’t walk straight. And don’t ask me how I got back to the dorms, and why the hell I started demanding an offline Marco to come and talk to me and explain why was he in my head to me.

I think the one who answered was his friend, Connie? And then I was crying because neither Armin nor Marco were talking to me and I didn’t deserve that shit. I sobered a little more by the time Marco showed up and _again_ I almost let it slip he was exactly the reason I got into an ugly fight with Armin.

Like I told you, Marco always knows what to say. He relaxed me, told me what to do, even if his advice wasn’t too useful in my situation. He was there, and he was worried. He was a good guy. And that made my stomach fill with butterflies. I have to be honest, that night I slept with a smile despite how messy my head was.

Some days later, Armin finally decided to give me a chance to explain. I told him I was commissioned by Marco to do a painting and I got the inspiration from something I saw in Armin in the exact moment, and what I intended to say was that I got the idea for Marco’s painting.

“Oh,” Armin said, blinking a few times, like it was hard to believe I could get inspired in a moment like that. “Then, I guess… I’m sorry? For, you know, bursting out the door without letting you explain yourself.”

“I guess I’m sorry for choosing that moment to say the wrong thing,” I half smiled, rubbing the back of my neck as I stood there.

I’m a shitty liar, and I’m shittier for making Armin believe my shitty lie.

“Well, I’ll appreciate if you could just stop thinking about your online friend for one second,” he said, with no malice in his voice, “At least when you’re with me.”

I try to make it happen. I try to be in the present, smile when I have to, talk when I need to, and kiss when I’m being kissed. But my mind always seems to redirect my thoughts to my laptop and that nice guy that chats with me for hours. God, he even keeps himself awake past midnight just to chat with me for a few minutes that always turn into hours.

I can tell when he’s sleepy and I can tell when he’s sensitive just by the way he composes his sentences, and that silly laugh I hear through my speakers fill me with mixed feelings. And to be honest, I wasn’t willing to find out why that was. I was happy with Armin, I really was, and I was happy talking to this dude at the north part of the country who I hoped could live here so we could hang out and he could be a bigger part of my life.

But not everything you wish can come true. That’s what’s special about wishes; just a few of them are granted. And it wasn’t an option for me to go all the way there because the guy is shy. I’m pretty sure he’d faint if I ever mentioned the idea of a fair encounter. I mean, I don’t even know what he looks like? I’ve proposed a video chat several times, but the guy is always busy, always has an excuse to hang onto. I got the idea, dude, and I just need to tell me you don’t feel comfortable with other people looking at you. I wouldn’t judge. Why would I? He’s being more comprehensive than a lot of bunch of my friends here, aka Eren Jaeger.

Anyways, let’s not get into nasty subjects like that asshole: let me tell you how shit went down after that.

It was early, a Wednesday, if I remember correctly. My classes ended early, Armin was still studying, and what did I had left to do? I had to see if Marco was available for a little chat, obviously. So logging in and finding he was, as a matter of fact, online, brightened my day. Funny, because that’s not what’s supposed to happen.

Shaking that feeling aside, I managed to make an extraordinary entrance.

_Jean Kirschtein: hey_

_Marco: Hello_

_Jean Kirschtein: i’ve been so booooooooooooooored_

I’m a master in conversations, have I ever told you guys that? I stretched myself, putting my hands in the back on my neck as I saw the little pencil icon move as Marco typed his answer.

_Marco: I don’t know why, but I know you being bored means you’ve been eating and watching movies all day._

I smiled at that. Maybe I haven’t been watching movies or eating till I’m full, but if Marco wasn’t online that was the only thing I would have done, that’s for sure.

_Jean Kirschtein: cause you know me too much_

_Jean Kirschtein: so what are you up to man?_

_Marco: Editing a few photos I took with Maggie_

Maggie? That old shitty camera? I will never understand how those things work, ever. Maybe if I was so into photography like he was I could be more excited about it.

_Jean Kirschtein: Maggie huh? New girlfriend?_

_Marco: Ha ha, you’re so funny_

_Jean Kirschtein: dude never give up the gorgeous body of a woman!_

_Marco: So you’re going to ask Armin to wear fake boobs?_

Why does Armin always have to end up slipping into our conversations? Marco was my way out from real life; he was my safe corner where the demands Armin had for me— something I never talked to anyone about ‘cause it’s nobody’s fucking business— couldn’t reach me.

I rolled my eyes and bit my lips until they disappeared into a fine line. Marco didn’t have to know that.

_Jean Kirschtein: god no, that kid has enough with his own_

_Marco: I… really don’t know how to respond to that_

_Jean Kirschtein: he doesn’t necessarily have like… huge boobs, if you copy me_

_Marco: OH_

Yeah. That was really unnecessary. I reread the conversation once more before answering and I felt the need to facepalm. I sounded like a fucking pretentious dick, boasting about my boyfriend’s huge package. So I decided to change the subject for both Marco’s and my own sake.

_Jean Kirschtein: are you still editing?_

_Marco: Yeah, I was just taking a little break for my eyes. I’ve been up to this for almost three hours_

_Jean Kirschtein: commitment at its finest_

_Marco: You could say that… I need to keep going tho_

_Jean Kirschtein: editing?_

_Marco: Yup_

So… Marco was busy? I wondered if he would notice any differences…

_Jean Kirschtein: can I call you then? you wont need to type that way_

_Marco: Sure_

It was now or never. I know I would regret it if I didn’t click in the video call button, but also it could make Marco uncomfortable… But I really, _really_ wanted to meet him.

So I clicked it. I did it and prayed to all the gods for Marco to be absorbed in what he was doing and just go along with it. I just needed a chance to look at him and clear every mess I had in my mind.

For my fortune, Marco didn’t notice it was a video call, and now my prayers went for him to have a freaking camera programmed to let me see him.

_SHIT TODAY I COULD JUST WIN THE LOTTO_ , I thought to myself as the screen came to life and a guy on the other side of the camera was looking at a sheet of paper. I squinted when my eyes had a little trouble focusing the image, so I looked around my desk.

“Wait. Let me get my glasses on,” I told him when I finally found them on the top shelf of the desk, cleaning them as fast as I can before he could notice the camera on.

“I didn’t know you used glasses…” he seemed too choked on his own sentence when he looked up at the screen.

“There we go,” I said, blinking a few times as my eyes adjusted to the new vision, “Hey there.”

But Marco didn’t seem to hear me. He was frozen. Was my microphone on? I checked it once more to make it sure.

“Nice to finally meet you, dude.”

Still nothing. Instead of worrying myself for fixing the microphone, I took a good look at Marco in front of me. He wasn’t like I expect him to be. God no, he was something. He was gorgeous. I mean, I’ve never been picky with appearances. I have dated bigger people before, and hell, I’m with a dude who has a body that a lot of boys and girls would kill for. But even if appearance was important to me, I care more about how I feel with them.

Marco, was a surprise. A good kind. It was like when you imagine a totally different person in your head, but when you finally see them, you like the real image a lot more. Marco was that. His face was sweet, with a rounded nose that made him look so innocent.

And fuck. Freckles. Freckles everywhere I looked. That was an important fact that I forgot to add to my imaginary Marco, but I was glad to find that detail appealing. His body was big, but fluffy and warm enough to spend a boring afternoon resting your head there and feel a lot of butterflies filling your stomach.

A chill went down my spine. There was a feeling I sure have never experienced with anybody else. It gave me a connection; the sweet guy who I’d been talking to for the last few months was _so_ cute he made it feel real. Like he was right there. With me.

His personality made that guy frozen in my screen a lot more attractive than I’d ever expected. And God, that made me swallow hard.

“Wow, you are actually _cute_ , Marco.”

As soon as those words left my lips I regretted it. I hoped with all my heart the microphone was disconnected and he hadn’t heard me. I printed the screen just in case the call went out. I needed proof.

“Hello?” I tried again, just making sure he managed to hear my last sentence, “Can you hear me, Marco?”

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Was the internet that bad? Maybe it was the call, not my microphone because it seemed to be working perfectly.

“ _Shit_ , my screen is frozen,” I finally managed; biting my lip with worry. “Marco? Can you hear me? I’m gonna restart this thing, ok?” That’s when I feel stupid because, hey, Marco can’t hear me. “Um… Shit, I should just type you…”

I ended the call and opened Paint before I made the stupidity of copy anything else and lose the image. I couldn’t bear to lose it. As soon as the image appeared on my screen, I looked at it again. Marco, with a neutral face. His warm chocolate eyes were looking at the screen and a bunch of freckles sparkled on the bridge of his nose.

As soon as it was safe and secure in my hard drive, I started to type frantically and tried calling him again. Maybe now that he had seen me he could get some courage and actually talk to me. But that didn’t seem the case…

_Jean Kirschtein: pick up, man_

I typed it more like a plea than nothing. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to see him talk, to see him smile. Not just a screen print where he looked so… indifferent.

He started to type something, but stopped and the pencil dropped. The beats of my heart were erratic with every second that passed without an answer.

_Marco: I’m sorry, it seems Photoshop is making my Skype slow, you know… editing photos and stuff…_

The answer finally came, and it wrecked my stupid hopes.

_Jean Kirschtein: oh! yeah, i forgot about that, so what about a call then?_

Please say yes. Please say yes. At least let me know that I didn’t scare you.

_Marco: Wait, I got a call from Hanji, they need to see me at their office, need to go actually_

_Jean Kirschtein: sure sure, sorry for breaking your laptop or… something_

_Marco: It’s okay, talk to you soon then?_

‘ _Sure and sorry for scarring you, it wasn’t my intention, fuck I want to see you again_ ’ was my very first impulse. But no. I couldn’t— I had a boyfriend and that could be misunderstood. ‘ _Sure, don’t worry, I was just gonna tell you it was actually cool to finally meet you, you just brightened up my day_ ’ Again, Jean Kirschtein, you need to pick up your words right. ‘ _Dude, im sorry, please just don’t go away, I wont do it again, I don’t want to be here alone…’_

_Jean Kirschtein: sure_

_Marco: Take care!_

And he was gone. He was fucking gone. I scared the shit out of him and now he wasn’t going to talk to me again. Ever. I just broke all the trust he had in me by breaking the only unspeakable rule we had between us.

I groaned, and rubbed my face with my hands so hard my glasses got grassy marks from my hands and my nose hurt. Way to go Jean. Way to go.

With a heavy sigh, I looked up at the screen, opening the Paint window and looking into those eyes, and getting flustered for no reason. How would Marco look when he blushed? And laughed? Even before I noticed, a pencil was in my hand and I was taking a canvas from my art supplies in my closet, sitting in a little chair I had in the corner of my room, looking between my computer and the white canvas.

Jean Kirschtein, you are so fucked up.

* * *

I don’t really remember how much time I spent on the painting. I only remember turning on the lights to keep drawing, and adding the base colors at an unholy hour. Tanned skin never seemed so difficult to paint until that moment. I wanted to make it perfect, wanted to see the real image of Marco smiling. Smiling for me.

I was selfish. I know. Because I had a good boy by my side and I was just fantasizing about a totally different guy who barely trusted me anymore. But I could at least look at this painting and say _hey, Marco is smiling for you_.

It was stupid, and I knew it would be a bad idea to finish it as soon as Armin crossed the door at 11 pm and I was still mad because the tone wasn’t the same as the screen paint.

“Who’s that?” he asked with an arched eyebrow, inspecting the painting and then the image on my laptop.

“Marco,” was my simple answer.

And oh, what a mistake. Didn’t I learn from my past experiences? It seems I didn’t. Because Armin went quiet and sat on my bed and didn’t move until I was tired enough at 4 am to stop and looked at him like I was seeing a monster.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, scared as fuck. I thought he had gone as soon as I focused my attention on the painting again… five hours ago…shit.

“Waiting for my boyfriend,” Armin yawned from my pillow, “Are you finally going to come to bed? Tomorrow you have classes.”

“Yeah,” I tilted my head looking at his body splayed on my bed, “Are you going to sleep here?”

“Is there a problem?” he asked me back, as he moved to make some space for me.

We slept in silence. Armin had an arm around my waist, but I didn’t close my eyes until the early morning, just an hour before my alarm went off. I needed to finish that painting and put it away as soon as possible, because I discovered that those chocolate eyes were going to haunt me and make me dream about freckles.

The weekend came and I was tired as hell. My sketchbook filled with imaginary Marco’s expressions. I drew him with a soft smile, with a happy grin, with tearful eyes, laughing and crying, a shy look, dimples in his cheeks, and how the fuck did my mind manage to make me draw him looking at me with such lovely eyes and such a cute smile?

I was going crazy every minute it happened. And I finally accepted the fact that watching him didn’t just affect him- it affected me as well. I was in love with a fucking screen print. I hadn’t talked to him since then and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t talk to me again. I was a fucking mess and I just wanted to cry.

Because Marco was fine without me. I was pretty fucking sure that he didn’t feel the same way I did because he’d run away from me the first time I try to get close to him.

And for god’s sake, I was _with_ Armin. I had a stable relationship with a dream guy.

I needed to get my shit together, and rethink what was going on. Looking back at my sketchbook in that damn coffee shop, the only answer I could get was: _You need to see him again, look into his eyes and make sure you’re making the right decision._

So I stood up, threw my coffee away, and walked back to the dorms. Just one more time, I would ask Marco for one more time and I’d beg for a video call if I had to.

The weather was chilly, even for Los Angeles. I jogged to my dorm, closing my jacket with one hand while I grabbed my sketchbook under the other arm. I needed to feel courageous to do this. I _needed_ to do this. Not just for me, but to be fair to Armin. I owed him that- he wasn’t guilty.

And I wasn’t expecting him in my room when I opened the door. He was sitting in front of my desk, completely over my laptop as he typed something furiously.

“Armin?” I said as I closed the door. He turned to look at me calmly, as if I’d been in the room the whole time. “What are you doing?”

“I was waiting for you,” he smiled as he closed the laptop. He stood up, looking at me innocently. “I was thinking… are you up for it?”

I tilted my head, looking at him with confusion. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” he smiled at me like he was really shy, as if he didn’t want to give away what he was asking for right away, “we can finish what we started a few weeks ago.”

Oh.

OH.

I blinked a few times, processing what he was asking me.

“What do you say?” Armin crossed the room and hugged me around the waist, resting his chin on my chest, “Let’s try it one more time. No one in our mind but us. Please?”

He deserved it. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But I was the one who was wrong. I knew that if I did what he was asking, I was going to fuck it up again. And Armin didn’t deserve that. So I took his arms in my hands, unwrapping myself from his embrace, looking at him with a shy smile.

“I’m sorry, Armin, but today’s not a good day…”

“Then when is a good day?” he asked suddenly, raising his voice.

That took me by surprise. He wasn’t a violent person, and I hadn’t technically done anything wrong either. I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings again. I needed to pull myself together before I did anything with Armin and…

“Is that because of that painting?” Armin pointed at the canvas where the smiling Marco was looking at us, “Is that because of that fat _painting_?”

Wait. He wasn’t calling the painting fat. He was calling _Marco_ fat. God. If there was one thing I totally hated, it was when people used those kinds of adjectives to hurt someone’s feelings. I was sure Marco had heard those hateful words not once, not twice, but a bunch of times, and I was pretty sure that was why he didn’t want me to see him- so he didn’t have to hear it from _me_. But my friend was cute, and Armin just insulted _my_ friend.

“What did you say?” I asked through my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm.

“You spend each minute of your free time painting that disgusting drawing,” Armin threw his arms to the air in exasperation, opening and closing his fists, “Is that really Marco? Like, the real Marco? Because, god, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, I did see him,” I answered, squinting at him, “There is nothing wrong with him, so don’t just say disrespectful things about him like he’s a monster.”

“He isn’t even here to hear me! I can say whatever I want about him!”

“Well, yeah, but I’m here, and I’m his friend!”

“But _I_ am your boyfriend, Jeen, and I want intimacy with you! But you can’t do that because you keep thinking about that whale!”

My lips were thin as a line, trying to keep my cool. Right now was not a moment to explode. I still needed to figure things out, and I couldn’t just scream at Armin like I was out of my mind. I still needed to corroborate something alone before I made any decision.

So I took a step back, opening the door without looking at Armin.

“Jeen?”

“Get out.”

Silence. He didn’t move.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked in a tiny voice.

I closed my eyes and let my breath out slowly, trying to compose myself.

“I just need to think all this shit through, Armin,” I told him, still not opening my eyes, touching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and index finger.

“B-but there is nothing to think about…”

“Just go, Armin,” I repeated, finally looking at him. When I saw the fear in his eyes, I tried to reassure him with a small smile, “I’ll call you later, okay?”

He blinked at me like I was talking in a foreign language, but he walked out my room without looking back, a tiny smile on his lips as he crossed the door.

As soon as my door was closed, I walked to my desk. I opened up my laptop and found the Skype window. Marco wasn’t online, but I still left him a message. There was no chat up, since the last time I talked with him was half a week ago.

I needed an excuse for the video call. I couldn’t just come up as ‘ _Hey, I want to see you again, I need to clear my head, I want to know what’s happening with myself and the only coherent answer I have right now is seeing you again.’_

So I looked up, crossing all my room to look at the unfinished canvas, and an idea popped in my head.

_Jean Kirschtein: hey, so i did a thing. i wanted to show it to you, so maybe we can make another call?_

_Jean Kirschtein: as long as ure fine with it_

_Jean Kirschtein: :)_

I’m… a fucking dork. I rested my face on the desk as soon as that smiley face was sent. I could always erase it, but Marco could misunderstand and think I said something I shouldn’t… He was in a sensitive mood after all. I didn’t want to scare him more that I already had. So I kept the smiley.

I stood up and sat back in the chair, looking at his icon directly, as if I could make him appear online just by invoking him to. I mean, sometimes it worked, but I seemed to have wasted all the luck I’d had last Wednesday.

With a loud sigh, I looked back at the painting, making sure it was going according to what I remembered of him frozen on the screen. I didn’t need to look at the picture I had in my files; I had looked at it enough to have it memorized.

In the meantime I opened Tumblr. I got a lot of likes in my dashboard. What the hell? Photos of me and Armin were filtered and a bunch of my followers liked them. I got at least a dozen new messages- more than usual. I didn’t even bother opening all of them. As soon as I looked at the way people were praising just how cute Armin and I were as a couple, I went to the homepage again, trying to figure out just how many photos Armin had posted without my permission.

But just as I was trying to look, ‘freckles’ had liked one of them.

Marco saw the photos… and he… liked them?

I clicked at the link, and I soon regretted it. It was taken a few weeks ago, even before the whole Marco-Armin change name happened. Armin and I were watching movies and I fell asleep, and Armin took his phone and took the photo. I remember telling him to erase everything because I fucking drooled after that and Armin had evidence of it!

But Marco, he liked the photo. I could see his username in the notes. He didn’t feel the same way I did and that made me feel bad and why did I feel bad about it? I wasn’t in love with him, I just had this strong bond with him and I thought he was cute and… I was disappointed how fine he with me being with Armin and… oh fuck this shit, who am I kidding?

I groaned as I covered my face with my hands. I was not okay with Marco liking my relationship because I wasn’t completely sure Armin was the right guy. I mean he was nice, cute and intelligent, but not the kind of guy who I could share my ideas and passions, because he always wanted attention…

I closed my laptop. Guess things didn’t go as planned…

* * *

Each day. Every day of the following week I checked up Skype for any sign of life. But Marco didn’t show up- not even once. I kept my laptop on, waiting for the notification telling me he was online. But there was nothing there. Not even when I was in class did he leave a message to let me know he had already read my message.

I left another two, saying the same old stuff: that I missed talking to him, that I really wanted his opinion on my new painting, because he would like it. But I got no answer.

Maybe he was still mad at me because I saw him? I opened Tumblr the next Saturday, hoping to see any activity from him telling me he was alive but avoiding me. What I didn’t expect was to find the blog with a little legend saying that it no longer existed.

That turned all the red lights on. Like a fucking control panel going nuts. I checked the url again trying to figure out if I had any typo, but the address was right. The blog had been closed. Marco had closed his Tumblr and that was a warning that he might even delete me from Skype.

I checked again, trying to stay calm as I saw his little icon. He still appeared as a contact so he hadn’t opened his Skype to delete me before checking my messages. That… was good right? He still needed his Skype to check out his family, since it was the only way to contact them like he had told me, so he would have to see my messages and read my apology…

“Fucking dammit…” I groaned once more, taping my fingers repeatedly, thinking a way to contact him.

I didn’t have his cell phone, and I totally regretted not asking for it before. There must be something I could do to reach him. To tell him I was sorry. Just a little chance…

I opened a text post on Tumblr, and it sat there in the middle of my screen waiting for me to fill it. And I had no idea where to begin.

Maybe just admitting the things I wasn’t willing to admit to myself was a good start?

I started typing.

_‘There are some things we shouldn’t touch, we shouldn’t do, and some lines we shouldn’t cross. But we are humans, you know? We are curious. It’s in our nature to try to do what we aren’t supposed to. Sometimes we just do it for the sake of the adventure, or because we think we are untouchable and consequences can suck our asses. Sometimes it’s the necessity for the rush of adrenaline. But oh, how wrong we are. How wrong to think we can manage everything we do, that everything we do doesn’t harm anyone. That’s why rules are made. That’s why boundaries are traced. So we don’t hurt people we care about. And I did it. I hurt someone I care about. Maybe too much that I’m too scared to admit it out loud. But now it’s too late. I did wrong, and I need to face the consequences of my actions. But if you’re reading this, you’ll know I’m talking about you. And all I want to say is that I’m sorry, and if I could go back in time, maybe I would do things a little differently. And do things right since the beginning.’_

And I posted it.

I let out a long, deep sigh as I reread my public and unaddressed apology once more. I cared about Marco, that was true, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be so desperate to reach him and know if he was alright. I wouldn’t be so desperate to know if there was something bothering him, and so desperate that I wanted to know if I could do something about it. Anything. Try to make him smile; hear him laugh like he used to. Or just talk.

I just wanted to talk to him. Was that so much to ask?

I refreshed the page and new notes appeared in my dashboard. They were the same followers who kept track of my posts, but there was also one in particular I wasn’t acquainted with.

_Crazy-glasses_ was a username that barely appeared in my activity chart. I remembered that they followed me around the same time I met Marco, but we never interacted with each other. They had liked my last post, and I clicked the link to the blog. I just needed to read the description of the blog to move my mouse as fast as I could to the ask button.

_Hanji Zoe. They/Their/Them. Teacher in Sina Washington University. Go Titans!’_

**_Jsh-ahn-no-Jeen asked:  
_ ** _Hi! i was wondering if u knew marco? ure his photography teacher right? could u tell me if hes alright? ive been trying to contact him since forever n im just worried about him. could i get his number from u? thanks!_

There was this fucking beating in my chest that I couldn’t control. I felt as if I had run a fucking marathon without a break, and I was ready to faint in any moment. I didn’t know if they were still online to check my ask in that moment or I would just have to wait until they came back. They were leaving me hanging from this high cliff. I was so scared to fall.

I bit my nail, refreshed the page every three minutes, hoped for that fucking red number to appear at the top of my dashboard.

Ten- _fucking_ -minutes later, the number popped up and I nearly crashed my computer to the floor when I jumped to look for my mouse. I wasn’t prepared for what was in the answer.

**_Crazy-glasses_ ** **_answered you:  
_ ** _Hi! As a matter of fact, Marco Bodt is my student! He’s… fine, I can say, but I’m afraid I’m not authorized to leak my students’ personal information to any other student or personal outside the university. Sorry._

What. The actual. Fuck. He’s ‘ _fine_ ’? Are you kidding me? He’s not fucking fine and I’m breaking my brains here trying to contact him and try to make things better. But this little shit isn’t helping at all.

Oh. Wait.

I got another message.

**_Crazy-glasses_ ** **_asked:  
_ ** _But since you seem like a nice guy, and you helped him improve in an amazing way, I think I could do something for you. This is the contact info from Connie Springer, he’s one of Marco’s closest friends. Since he’s not my student, I’m free to let this info leak into your hands. Maybe he can tell you what’s going on with Marco. XXX-XXX-8501_

I can assure you, I fucking kissed the screen of my laptop as I barely typed a tiny ‘thanks’ while I looked on my bed for my phone and frantically typing the numbers into the touch screen.

My heart was beating so hard I felt like it would escape from my chest as it started to ring. I didn’t have something specifically prepared to say when Connie picked up, if he ever picked up, or if this was Connie’s number and not just a random number Hanji had given me just to keep me quiet.

Two rings and then static.

“Hello?”

“Um…” I went numb. Bad timing to forget why I was calling for.

“Hello?” the voice repeated. I breathed deep, and brought my free hand to my face to calm myself.

_Remember. Connie. He’s Marco’s friend. He can tell you how Marco is_.

“Um… Connie?” my voice was one octave higher, alien even for me, “You’re Connie Springer, right?”

“Yeah…” There was a quiet mumble in the background, “Sorry, who is this?”

“Oh, I’m… I-I’m Jean. Jean Kirschtein?”

And the line was dead. I brought my phone down and stared at it.

I think I fucked up things worse than I even imagined. Connie had never talked to me, except for that time I was drunk, but he’d seemed sort of nice? And now he hung up on me as soon as he knew it was me.

I tried a few more times but each time it went straight to voicemail. But I couldn’t give up. Not yet at least. He was my only connection with Marco, and even if I knew Marco was so pissed at me that his friend was pissed at me too, that didn’t change things of why he was that mad at me.

It couldn’t be just because I started that video call, now I noticed. There must be something more that made Marco try to disappear from the internet and forget about me.

There is something I pride myself on, and that’s the fact that I’m a persistent motherfucker who won’t let something go until I get what I want. That’s how I am, and that’s how I got Connie to answer me again later that night when he received at least five calls per minute.

“COULD YOU PLEASE STOP CALLING ME, DUDE?! I’M NOT GONNA TALK TO YOU!”

“WELL, AT LEAST TELL ME WHY YOU’RE NOT TALKING TO ME, OR BETTER YET TELL ME WHY MARCO DOESN’T WANT TO!” I scream him back.

“Don’t play fool with me, dick,” he accused me, “You did a pretty good job fooling around with Marco and then breaking his heart like the asshole you are, but I’m not that weak, dude. I have balls to call up your shit.”

“Wait. Wait! Wait!” I put a hand in front of me as if Connie could see it, staring at a blank spot in my room at his words, “What do you mean I _broke_ his heart? I didn’t do anything!”

“…” there was a heavy sigh in the line, “I’m gonna hung up.”

“NO!” I screamed, this time scared and confused, “I mean it. I know I shouldn’t have started that video call, but it was never my intention to hurt him…”

“I’m not only talking about the video call,” he explained, pretty tired and angry, “I’m talking about what you said after that.”

I tried to remember what I had said to him after the call. I’d tried to call him again, but he’d had to go, and then I asked a few days later for a call to show him the painting, and that I missed talking to him…

“Is this about the painting?” I asked. I couldn’t understand why Marco would feel bad about me painting him. I knew he was self-conscious about his image but… wouldn’t he be happy that I found him attractive enough to paint him?

“What are you talking about? What fucking painting?” Connie asked exasperated, “I’m talking about last week, when you called him fat.”

“WHAT?”

“I told you not to play fool with me—”

“N-no. It’s not that, I swear.” I prayed, trying so hard to remember what the hell he was talking about.

“Now you feign insanity.” His statement was so filled with sarcasm it hurt.

“Listen, Connie,” I started, trying to calm both me and him because I was just as confused as he was pissed, “Last time I recall talking to him, I told him he was cute, but I think he didn’t heard me because…”

“Oh, he did,” he assured me, “That’s why he was so hurt after you said all those awful things like him going on diets and that he wasn’t attractive at all. You know? He really liked you.”

“And I like him too!”

“Then why did you tell him all those things?” he asked in a voice stained with hurt. He was hurt because I made Marco sad for something I don’t recall doing.

“I didn’t!” I repeated desperate, “Like I said, the last time I talked to him was when we did the video call, then he left and I haven’t know anything about him since.”

Silence. Then a snort and some muffled sounds in the other side, like if he was talking to someone.

“Is he there?” I asked hopefully, making a fist over the phone, but Connie didn’t answer right away, “Connie, is that Marco?”

But I only got the sound of a door being closed and another sigh.

“Connie?” I tried again, “Let me talk to him.”

“I can’t,” he said, tired of fighting I guess, “You need to go to your computer and check your chat history, dude.” Was his dead line.

I flipped my computer on and got online, looking for Marco’s conversation. The last lines were written by me, asking him how he was, my petitions for another video call and that was all, but as soon as I clicked in the “Last 7 days” link, a full conversation I didn’t have read before appeared.

I read it as fast as I could, and I needed to cover my mouth at what ‘ _I’_ had written and Marco’s reaction.

_‘Have you ever thought about going on a diet?’_

_‘Dude, your size!’_

_‘People, men in general, don’t like chubby people to get into a relationship.’_

_‘Maybe a surgery would help you lose some weight’_

_‘You shouldn’t have eaten those muffins’_

_‘I have pity for you, Marco. Maybe if you were skinnier you’ll have a chance.’_

“Oh my god,” I said in a whisper.

“Why did you do that, dude?” the voice in my ear remembered me I still had Connie on the phone.

“I didn’t,” I barely managed to say, reading what Marco had answered last.

_‘I really don’t feel comfortable talking about this, Jean.’_

I wanted to throw up. I could only imagine what Marco would have felt when he had read this. Why hadn’t I seen this conversation before? Why was it hidden? Oh my god, Marco…

“Well, either you were drunk again or you have a severe case of hacking.”

Hacking… Checking the date the messages were sent, I made an effort to remember what had happened that day. That was the day I’d tried to convince him to do another video call, but when I had come back to the dorm, Armin…

“Oh my god,” I repeated, opening my eyes as wide as I could. I feared that they might have been popping out of my head.

“Jean?”

This time, my name was pronounced by two different voices. Once was Connie’s in my ear, and the other one belonged to the blonde standing at my door. I looked at him like he was a ghost, like he was a walking dead, like I couldn’t recognize my own boyfriend.

“I’ll… I’ll call you later, Connie.” I told the phone, without blinking, still looking at Armin, “I think I know what happened.”

I hung up, standing from my chair and facing Armin like he would transform into some beast, because the Armin I had asked to go out with me once was definitely not the same person that stood at my door.

“Are you alright?” he asked in a sweet voice, and that put me on high alert. “Who were you talking to?”

I blinked once. Fast. I was trying not to lose him from my sight. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

There were so many things I wanted to ask. I wanted to believe that my instincts weren’t true. But this was happening, and Armin had hurt Marco more than I could even imagine. Hadn’t he?

_‘I have pity for you, Marco.’_

“What is this?” I asked, pointing at the laptop open on the conversation.

“What is what?” he blinked innocently, walking slowly towards me.

“This.” I pointed again. I couldn’t believe it had been him. This was surreal. Armin could never be able to hold all those disrespectful things in his tiny body…

He came closer, looking at what I was pointing at, but he barely read a sentence before looking at me with a blank stare.

“Oh,” he said at first, blinking slowly, “yeah. I had to do it.”

“Why?” My mouth disconnected from the rest of my body. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him he was crazy for doing that. Marco had done nothing to him, and Armin had been so hateful.

“Because he was rooting into your mind,” Armin shrugged, as if it was logical. “You only thought about _him_ 24/7.” Then he laughed, looking at the screen with slightly sombre eyes. “It’s hard being placed in second thoughts when you’re supposed to be placed first. I amyour _boyfriend_ , Jeen. But I was fighting with the ghost of an imaginary friend you were falling in love with.”

“I wasn’t…”

“Yeah, you were.” Armin looked at me, mad this time, taking the sketchbook from my desk and flipping it open to Marco’s vivid expressions, “Look at this, Jeen! You are crazy about him! You only draw him; you talked to him more than you talked to me! You only looked at him once and you fantasized about how he would look smiling? Are you out of your mind? You think I feel good with all that’s happening? When was the last time you drew _me_?! I was supposed to be your muse, remember? Where am I in all this?!”

He started ripping the pages of Marco off the sketchbook and let them scatter all around the floor, tears spilling from his baby blue eyes as he looked for one single drawing of him. But I stayed in my place, knowing he wouldn’t find what he was looking for.

Once the whole sketchbook was empty, Armin breathed hard as he looked up at me, and then to the canvas in the corner of the room. He walked long steps until he was there, looked at me and pointed at Marco.

“ _I_ AM YOUR BOYFRIEND, NOT THIS FUCKING PIG ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE COUNTRY!”

That was it. Something popped inside me when he said those awful words. It hurt me, like if he had said them about me. Armin saying those things _to_ me was enough.

I walked towards him, took him by his arms with a strong shake, and lifted him a little to glare directly into his eyes.

“Listen to me, Armin, and listen carefully,” I said with my teeth forced, trying not to hurt him, but letting him know just how dead serious I was, “Don’t you ever, and I mean _ever_ , call him that again, ok? Just because he’s a little overweight, it doesn’t make him less human than you or me. You have a model body, yeah, but your mind is poisoned, and that’s uglier than any form or shape or size he could have. He’s a good guy. He listens, he understands. He doesn’t demand things like he deserves them. He fights for the things he wants, because he has things a little more difficult because of people like you, who think that physical appearance is more important than what a person is capable of doing and offering. And yeah, I prefer my virtual relationship with him a thousand times more than this sick and twisted relationship we have right now.”

He stared at me like he didn’t understand what I was saying. The tears stopped. So that meant all the crying was an act. I set him down on the ground again. And just like the last time he was in my room, I walked to the door and opened it wide for him.

“We’re done, Armin,” I said in a calm voice, looking outside the room. “You can leave.”

We both stayed quiet during a few seconds. Neither of us moved from our places until I heard him shuffling and walking towards me, making sure he kicked and stepped the drawings on the floor.

“Good luck with your shitty non-existent relationship with Marco,” he said as he walked out of the room.

Once he got two rooms away from me, I poked my head out of the door and took a deep breath.

“AND IT’S FUCKING _JEAN_ NOT ‘JEEN’ GODDAMIT!”

And I closed the door.

* * *

 

**TWO MONTHS LATER**

I called Connie after that, and told him everything. He still kept me away from Marco, telling me he had been depressed for several days and the last thing he wanted to do was to destabilize him again when Marco was focused on this important gallery.

The last thing Connie told me was the date and the place of the said gallery.

I don’t think Connie did it with a plan in mind, because he looked as surprised as Marco did as he stood next to this brownish redheaded chick I recognized as Sasha from the photos.

But yeah. I saved enough money and I didn’t ask if I was allowed to attend the event. I just showed up in Washington. Because I cared. And I wanted to do things right this time.

I gave Marco a little smile, trying to smooth the tension in the hall. You could touch it. It embraced me like a cold blanket and it gave me chills.

We didn’t say anything. So I took a step forward…

And that’s when Marco fell hard onto the floor.

Great. I think I killed the boy I love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God bless Jean. I think all of you saw this coming, not exactly that way, but you knew what was going on! So congratulations!
> 
> Just one more chapter and an epilogue and we're done! I'm so excited because I never thought you guys would love this fic that much! I never really expected all the love and kudos and comments you guys gave to me and I'm so thankfull for that! That means a lot to me because this was my very first attempt of a fic in english and a jeanmarco one. But thank you people, you are the best!
> 
> Thank you so much to [Lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MonoclePony/pseuds/MonoclePony), always a sweetheart for beta reading my chapters and she will be beta reading my new fic too which is called [Paper Planes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2491133/chapters/5528573), based in the movie called **Kites**. Pretty romantic story which I think you guys will enjoy!
> 
> Thanks again for all the love <3 you guys rock!

**Author's Note:**

> Yeiiiiiiiiiiiiih.... my english sucks! But thanks to lovely Nate for doing the grammar and spelling corrections this time! I think this might go in the right direction, so till next time!
> 
> This is the cactus Marco posts in his [tumblr](http://irisnairel.tumblr.com/post/76381276543/little-photo-i-stole-from-google-for-a-little)
> 
> Remember, any grammar mistake or any thing you want to point out PLEASE don't be affraid to tell me!


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